


Game, Set, Match

by ShanaRHager



Category: Mario Tennis (Video Games), Super Mario & Related Fandoms
Genre: Brotherly Love, Competition, Dramedy, Gen, Most of the drama is toward the end, Sibling Rivalry, Sports, Tennis, sportsmanship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-19
Updated: 2020-07-29
Packaged: 2021-03-05 06:47:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 28
Words: 35,284
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25390024
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShanaRHager/pseuds/ShanaRHager
Summary: Set in 2004.  The Power Tennis Singles Tournament has arrived in the Peach Dome.  16 competitors, and only 1 winner.  An unlikely character will beat the odds and win the coveted gold trophy, but who?  Rated T for moderately intense sports action, questionable behavior and language.
Relationships: Luigi & Mario (Nintendo), Mario/Peach Toadstool, Princess Daisy/Luigi
Kudos: 4





	1. Game On

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [A Twisted Tennis Tournament](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/652033) by nintendoscript15. 



The year was 2004. Bush (the younger) was President. Smartphones didn’t exist. Social media was still relatively new. Most people still watched TV on an analog signal. Windows XP or Windows Vista was the computer operating system du jour—mostly Windows XP. And the year also saw the Power Tennis Tournament at the Peach Dome.

This tournament was spaced out over several days and was divided into singles and doubles. The doubles bracket would be held first, followed by the singles. And in the preceding days, the MK’s finest, along with some visitors, practiced long and hard to win the coveted gold trophy.

It was serious business, indeed. The MK’s most upstanding citizen, Mario “Jumpman” Mario, would be defending his title as the Power Tennis Champion in the singles round. His antithesis, Wario, along with his twin, Waluigi, coveted the victor’s purse. And the younger Mario Bro, Luigi, hoped for a trophy that for once was gold, rather than silver.

But there were some who only cared about having the opportunity to show off their skills in the Peach Dome. Hailing from Bakersfield, CA was Skye Davidson, a single mother, and her three children, Carolyn, Cami and Phillip. And from Chicago, Illinois was a driven woman by the name of Opal Fox. These five had been personally invited to participate by the tournament’s co-coordinator, Toadsworth, after gaining word of their tennis skills. Excitedly, they’d accepted the invite, and they were given an all-expenses-paid trip to the MK for the tournament’s duration.

The Power Tennis Tournament would start first thing tomorrow morning. And once the tournament commenced—anything could and would happen.


	2. A Singular Disruption

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter contains questionable behavior.

With an emphatic grunt, Mario gave the tennis ball a solid whack with his racket, sending it over the net and whizzing past the opposing team.

“Quick! Get that ball!” Wario exclaimed as he and Waluigi took wild swipes at the tennis ball.

Unfortunately, they missed, winding up comically sprawled on the tennis court.

“And this round goes to Mario and Luigi!” announced Toadsworth. “Congratulations, you two!”

“Oh, yeah!” Mario jubilantly leaped into the air before jumping into Luigi’s arms, wrapping his legs around his waist.

“Way to go, Bro,” said Luigi as the duo hugged. “I knew you could do it!”

“Hey—give yourself some credit,” said Mario. “You helped us advance to this point.”

Luigi blushed.

“I’m not kidding, Lil’ Bro. You’re the best doubles partner anyone can ask for.”

“Ah—thanks, Bro.”

Meanwhile, the Wario Bros remained on the floor, silently fuming.

Steam poured out of Wario’s ears. “Drat! We were so close!” he growled.

“Those two were lucky,” added Waluigi, “but we’ll get them next time.”

They got to their feet and glowered at the Mario Bros as they walked over to shake hands.

“Hey—chin up, you guys,” said Mario. “You played well.”

But the Wario Bros weren’t known for being good sports. The two simply sneered at their foils and refused their handshake offers.

“[Bleep] you, and the horse you rode in on,” snapped Wario.

“Yeah. And [bleep] you, too,” spat Waluigi.

The two of them pushed past the Mario Bros and stormed off the court, leaving everyone else mute.

“Wow. What is _wrong_ with them?” Luigi asked in disbelief.

“You got me,” said Mario. “It’s best not to worry about it, though.”

“Hm. You’re right,” said Luigi.

Arm-in-arm, the bros exited the court to rest up for the next round.

Unbeknownst to everyone at the Peach Dome, someone had watched the matchup between the Mario Bros and the Wario Bros—someone sinister.

**…**

The next day, Wario and Waluigi trudged toward the Peach Dome, still steamed over yesterday’s defeat.

“I can’t believe we were beaten by those two losers!” huffed Wario. “Ah, whatever. Let’s take a look at the schedule. I _really_ want to cream somebody today.”

“I’m with you there,” said Waluigi.

They walked over to the bracket layout—and they both swore in unison.

“Those idiots!” cried Waluigi. “They knocked us out of competition!”

“Now I’m _really_ mad!” Wario joined in. “You Mario Bros think you’re something?! Well, we’ll show you!”

“Yeah!” said Waluigi, brandishing a Sharpie and beginning to doodle on Luigi’s image. “Take that, Mr. Eyeballs!”

Wario let out a guffaw and started scribbling on Mario’s image. “How do you like that, loser?” he snickered.

The nefarious duo continued vandalizing the bracket layout, scrawling nasty names above the Mario Bros’ icons. To top it off, Waluigi drew a big green c—k in Luigi’s mouth, and Wario drew a big red c—k in Mario’s mouth. When they were finished, they laughed at their handiwork.

“Ha! Suck it, a—holes!” said Waluigi.

Wario farted on the tournament bracket. “That was for knocking us out of the tournament!” he exclaimed. “Have a rotten day! Ha-ha!”

They laughed and guffawed some more before wailing sirens arrested their attention. A team of security guards wearing sirens on their heads charged toward the duo.

“Hold it right there!” shouted one of them. “You’re both going downtown for this!”

“Run!” Wario and Waluigi shouted in unison, dropping their Sharpies and booking it.

The security guards chased Wario and Waluigi all around the Peach Dome. Desperate and running out of breath, the two ducked into a room to hide—only to wind up dropping several feet to the bottom.

Groaning, Wario and Waluigi pushed themselves to their feet.

“Where are we?” muttered Waluigi.

“I dunno,” grumbled Wario.

They stiffened at the sound of lumbering footsteps as a hulking turtle/dragon hybrid approached them.

“Uh—hi,” Wario said slowly.

“Hey, you two,” greeted the Koopa King with an enigmatic smile. “Looks like you could use some help.”

“Yeah, you _think_?” snapped Waluigi. “Those Mario Bros totally _humiliated_ us!”

Koopa chuckled. “Well—I can certainly fix that,” he said. “Allow me to show you around my gym.”

Wario and Waluigi followed the Koopa King to a room with state-of-the-art training equipment, weights, barbells, kettlebells and a machine that fired off tennis balls.

“Pretty neat, huh?” asked Koopa.

“Yeah—this is tight,” breathed Wario.

“Hey, wait a minute—why weren’t you invited?” asked Waluigi.

“Er—maybe because I paid Peach my usual visit just last week,” Koopa rolled his eyes. “Yeah—she takes a while to forgive me for that, and things are still pretty hot with those plumbers. Luckily—today’s the day of the doubles’ grand finals, and I plan to give them a finale they’ll never forget.”

Wario and Waluigi exchanged a look.

“Are you two in—or are you out?” asked Koopa.

“Oh, yeah—we’re in,” grinned Wario. “Wario time!”

“We are _so_ in,” added Waluigi.

Koopa chortled. “Perfect,” he said.

**…**

As the doubles bracket continued inside the Peach Dome, Wario, Waluigi and Koopa were hard at work, training. The former two were put to work on the cardio machines first, and then they moved on to step and stretch aerobics and then weight-lifting before they were allowed to try out the tennis ball-shooting mechanism.

“All right! There you go!” cheered Koopa. “I knew you had it in you all along! Keep it coming!”

They trained hard until late afternoon, when the final doubles match was about to start. After downing a bottle of Gatorade each, the trio exchanged a nod and went to enact the second part of their plan.

Back in the Peach Dome, the lights dimmed, and the spectators were on their feet, cheering.

“Time for the final!” Toadsworth announced as Peach stood beside him. “It’s the Mario Bros versus—Yoshi and Donkey Kong!”

Amidst a brief spray of sparklers, the Mario Bros waved to the crowd, getting everyone just as pumped as them. They stood on a mounted platform, and their opponents presently hopped onto an opposite platform. But it wasn’t Yoshi and DK. It was—Wario and Waluigi!

“Hello, losers!” chuckled Wario. “We’re baaaaack!”

Koopa’s face appeared on the Jumbo Tron, laughing.

The spectators booed and hissed. Peach frowned lightly in disapproval, but she otherwise kept her cool.

“What do we do?” asked Toadsworth.

“I’ll handle it,” said Peach, picking up a microphone.

But before she could address the intruders, she glanced up and saw Koopa glide over the Peach Dome in some sort of blimp. At the same time, Wario and Waluigi replaced Yoshi and DK on the bracket layout.

“Those two must be desperate if they turned to Koopa for help,” opined Toadsworth.

“Okay, Toadsworth—I want you to get everyone out of the stadium,” said Peach. “Stay calm.”

However, Wario and Waluigi became incensed at the booing and hissing, abandoning their tennis rackets in favor of a Bob-omb-launcher. They hopped aboard, zeroed in on the Mario Bros and opened fire!

“This is madness,” gasped Peach. Turning toward the spectators, she said, “Ladies and gentlemen, please, remain calm and evacuate in an orderly fashion.”

As security led the spectators to safety, Mario and Luigi bravely deflected the Bob-ombs launched at them with their tennis rackets, sending them off-course and toward where they’d cause minimal damage. One Bob-omb landed near their attackers, launching their mechanism in the air. It landed safely on the tennis court, and the Wario Bros maneuvered it closer to their targets before peppering them relentlessly.

“Let’s do it!” Mario said determinedly.

“Here we go!” Luigi added.

And the two of them knocked back as many Bob-ombs as they could, the other tennis players beginning to join in. On his blimp, Koopa scooped up armfuls of bombs, which he volleyed toward the Bros. However, the two plumbers managed to deflect his shots, as well.

“Okay, then,” said Koopa, mounting a cannon on his blimp. “Say hello to my little friend!”

He fired the cannon, sending a Bullet Bill hurtling toward the plumbers. But Mario set his face and hit the projectile with his racket as hard as he could, sending it spiraling toward the court. It landed near Wario and Waluigi’s mechanism, knocking it over and sending them clumsily toppling to the ground.

“Waluigi! Are you okay, buddy?” asked Wario.

“I’m good,” Waluigi assured him.

The downed mechanism began wildly firing off Bob-ombs, one sailing toward Koopa’s blimp and landing in its “mouth”.

“[Bleep] me,” Koopa said quietly, seconds before the Bob-omb detonated.

Rapidly, Koopa began losing altitude and control, the detonation removing the blimp’s outer coverings and revealing more Bob-ombs.

Peach gasped when she caught sight of those Bob-ombs. “We need to get everyone out of here, now!” she said urgently.

“That includes you, too,” said Toadsworth, taking his Princess by the hand and leading her out of the Peach Dome.

“Wow—this looks bad,” mused Luigi as he watched the blimp descend toward the Wario Bros.

Screaming, Wario and Waluigi leaped to their feet and ran for their lives.

“I’m out of control! I’m out of control!” shouted Koopa. “She’s going down!”

Mario whirled toward Luigi. “Bro! Hit the deck!” he shouted.

Luigi didn’t need to be asked twice, the two of them quickly assuming the “duck and cover” position. Meanwhile, Wario and Waluigi also leaped for cover, and Koopa assumed the brace position aboard his crippled blimp as it crashed to the ground, triggering a massive explosion.

Miraculously, nobody was killed or seriously injured.

**…**

The tournament was postponed until the Peach Dome was fully repaired, and the final match of the doubles bracket would be played at a later date. Once the Peach Dome reopened, the singles bracket would begin.

Mario was quite the forgiving soul, and as such, he decided to allow Koopa to participate in the singles bracket, along with his son, B.J. Wario and Waluigi were ordered to apologize for their disruption, but they were otherwise let off with a slap on the wrist. Even when Mario saw what the two had done to his and Luigi’s icons, he decided not to hold any grudges. That was just the way he was.

However, the Mario Bros would get in a _little_ payback if they defeated the Wario Bros individually in the singles bracket…


	3. Preliminaries Overview

  1. Mario vs Wario
  2. Daisy vs Skye
  3. DK vs Diddy Kong
  4. Yoshi vs Carolyn
  5. Peach vs Koopa
  6. BJ vs Phil
  7. Opal vs Cami
  8. Luigi vs Waluigi



**Good luck to the competitors!**


	4. Preliminaries 1: Mario vs Wario

In June 2004, the Peach Dome was repaired and reopened, and the Power Tennis tournament could resume. At 6:45 in the morning, the sixteen competitors arrived at the Peach Dome to check in, change into more sports-oriented attire and prepare. At 7:30, the Peach Dome opened its doors to the spectators.

Since the doubles bracket was postponed, today would be the first day of the singles bracket. At 9a.m. sharp, the first singles match would begin—Mario vs Wario. There was no love lost between these two, especially in light of the stunt Wario and Waluigi had pulled, but as stated earlier, Mario was a bit of a forgiving soul, arranging for the two, along with Koopa and BJ, to participate in the singles and all.

In the men’s locker room, Mario had just changed into a pair of sea blue gym pants and a red polo shirt, a red visor replacing his signature ball-cap. He unzipped his duffel bag and took out a red tennis racket with an “M” on it, along with a change of clothes, body wash, a towel, a shower pouf, various snacks and several bottles of Gatorade. He put the shower materials and the change of clothes into a locker before laying his tennis racket across his lap and stroking it lovingly as he admired it.

“You think we’ve got one more?” he asked. “ _I_ think we do.”

“Morning, Mr. Wonderful!”

Mario snapped his head up as Wario walked over to him, clad in a yellow visor, a yellow polo shirt and a pair of black gym pants. A yellow tennis racket was gripped in his hand.

“Morning, Wario,” Mario said crisply.

“So—what are you gonna do when I beat you?” asked Wario.

“I’m not going to entertain that question with an answer,” said Mario, rising to his feet and gathering his things. “See you on the court. I strongly suggest you spend some time practicing.”

And he walked away, leaving Wario stunned.

**…**

“Welcome back to the Peach Dome for the singles bracket of the Power Tennis Tournament,” said Toadsworth. “Round 1 is about to begin. The first matchup on the agenda is—Mario “Jumpman” Mario vs Wario “Mr. Ravioli” Wario!”

The spectators, settled in their seats with their food and drinks, began to cheer.

“And here comes Mario now!”

The cheers grew louder as the man in red strode onto the court, pumped up and ready to show the world what he could do. He set his snacks and Gatorade aside and raised his racket aloft, eating up his fans’ adoration.

“Here we go!” he stridently exclaimed.

He rolled his shoulders and did a few quick stretches before waving to the crowd.

There was a brief hush, and then Wario arrived, swaggering onto the court and giving a “W” sign to the crowd. “It’s Wario time!” he guffawed.

The spectators politely applauded.

As the Toad official scurried onto the ref’s chair, Mario and Wario stared each other down. This match would have one set, with one court change in between. The first person to score four points would win and advance to the next round.

The clock struck 9. The singles bracket of the Power Tennis Tournament was officially underway.

Mario served first, executing a crisp lob shot over the net. Wario fired back with a good slice shot, and Mario returned with a topspin shot. It wasn’t long before the two had a rally going, most, if not all, of the spectators cheering for Mario. The majority of the remaining competitors also rooted for Mario, save for Waluigi, Koopa and BJ, of course.

“C’mon, Mario—you can do it,” whispered Skye.

“Yeah!” Opal agreed. “Wario’s got nothing on you!”

By now, both competitors were hot and sweaty, and Mario’s eyes were narrowed at Wario. He’d agreed to let Mr. Ravioli compete, but it didn’t mean he was happy that he and Waluigi wound up with a light punishment. Their response to being eliminated from the doubles bracket was to fire bombs at the Mario Bros! They’d better thank God that there had been no debilitating injuries or fatalities that day—especially as far as Luigi was concerned!

_I won’t let him win_ , Mario thought, gripping his racket tightly as Wario sent a smash shot toward him.

The racket glowed, and Mario executed an Offensive Power Shot, pulling out an iron hammer and swinging it with all his might at the ball. Wario leaped to intercept it, but he was seconds too late, leaving him sprawling on the court as the ball rocketed past him.

“D—mit!” hissed Wario, smacking a fist onto the floor before getting up.

The score was now 15-love in Mario’s favor. Wiping his forehead, Mario bounced a fresh tennis ball on the ground a few times before lobbing it toward Wario.

“Try this one on for size, Mr. Perfect,” muttered Wario as he pulled out a device with a mallet on it and hit the ball hard enough to cause several shockwaves.

But Mario managed to hit the ball back before the shockwaves knocked him back a short distance. Fortunately—especially for Wario—the man in red emerged more stunned than injured. And he still had enough breath in him to continue the rally.

“You know your game, I’ll give you that,” said Mario as he sent a slice shot Wario’s way.

“Thank Koopa,” grinned Wario as he retaliated with a topspin shot. “He taught me some new moves.”

“So—crashing the doubles bracket was _his_ idea?” asked Mario, flicking his wrist and delivering a topspin shot of his own.

“Nah—it was ours,” said Wario, sending Mario scrambling with a drop shot.

But Mario did one better, curving his next shot and forcing Wario to pull out a device with a glove on it to prevent his opponent from scoring. When the ball came arcing back, the man in red did one of his signature spin jumps and brought his racket smashing down on the ball, bringing the score to 30-love.

Wario muttered under his breath.

“Tough luck, buddy,” murmured Daisy.

“Okay, Bro,” Luigi said softly. “Two more to go.”

Meanwhile, Mario set his face and served again. He could tell by Wario’s manner that he was getting frustrated. Now _that_ wouldn’t help matters, now would it?

_Forget him. I’m not letting him ruin my day._

Fiercely, the ball flew back and forth, Wario serving up increasingly angry shots and Mario firing back with coldly precise shots. On one such shot, Wario slipped up, Mario taking advantage with a sturdy flat shot which earned him another point. 40-love.

“Game point,” announced the ref.

Mario tossed the ball into the air three times before letting his racket connect. It was an especially hefty shot which Wario had to counter with his glove device, called the Ultra-Hand. But Mario followed up with tricky corner shots, each one faster than the previous, until the last one overshot Wario.

“Are you kidding me?” huffed Wario.

“Game—Mario!” said the ref. “Change court!”

After the two switched sides, it was Wario’s turn to serve. Most of his shots were slow, but they carried a lot of power. At this point, Mario had to rely on timing and hand-eye coordination to stay in the game. Wario wound up scoring the first point, but Mario scored one right after, tying them 15-15.

Wario’s spark of hope was soon snuffed out as Mario pulled ahead, eventually scoring another point, and then yet another.

“No—no—no…” Wario growled under his breath.

“Match point,” said the ref.

Pushed to the edge, Wario lost his head and made more mistakes. Mario responded with powerful topspin shots, curve shots and corner shots. All of the spectators quieted, watching the match’s final moments in intensely fascinated silence. They watched Mario’s mouth work and his eyes glitter, and they watched Wario’s face redden. The other competitors had their eyes riveted on the duo, too.

“You’re gonna do it,” whispered Luigi. “You’re gonna do it…”

And then Mario lunged toward the ball and swung his racket with a mighty grunt, sending it soaring over the net and granting him the victory, much to Wario’s dismay.

“Game, set and match—Mario!” cried the ref.

“All right!” cheered Toadsworth. “Super Mario advances to the next round! Let’s give him a hand!”

Mario leaped into the air and struck a pose. “Oh, yeah! Wa-hoo!” he exclaimed as he received a standing ovation.

Wario, meanwhile, stamped his foot a few times and made insulting gestures at Mario. “Cheater!” he growled.

“Wario, please,” said Mario. “It’s just a game. I’m sure you’ll win next time.”

Wario responded by farting in Mario’s direction before stalking off.

“Wow—that guy—has issues,” mused Mario before he, too, exited the court.

He quickly found Luigi, the two bros exchanging a high-five and a hug.

“You sure showed him,” said Luigi.

“I did,” said Mario. “He wasn’t too happy about it, but whatever.”

“Guess what—I’m facing Waluigi,” smiled Luigi.

“Thrash him extra-hard for me, would you?” grinned Mario.

“Will do,” said Luigi.

Mario rested up as the Peach Dome got ready for the next preliminary match.


	5. Preliminaries 2: Daisy vs Skye

Following a brief water break, the next preliminary match commenced. Princess Daisy of Sarasaland would be pitted against Skye Davidson, your average single mom.

Skye showed up in top form. Her long, brown hair was swept up in a ponytail, and she wore a light blue and white tennis dress and aquamarine sneakers with white socks. A light amount of waterproof makeup was on her face, sparkling, light pink gloss was on her lips and a sky blue sports watch was on her right wrist. Her three kids cheered for her as she took up her blue and white tennis racket and stepped onto the court.

After exchanging a good luck kiss with Luigi, Daisy met her opponent on the court. Her auburn hair was also pulled back, but she was attired in a yellow tank top with a daisy on it and orange gym shorts, befitting her tomboyish nature. Her racket was yellow-orange and had an icon of a daisy on it. Presently, a smile was on her face as she studied Skye.

“Good luck,” she said.

“Good luck to you, too,” Skye said brightly, and the two women shook hands.

The match started, with Daisy serving. The Flower Princess relied more on technique than anything else, while Skye was a bit of a speedster. As the match heated up, Skye mostly used drop shots, topspin shots and flat/smash shots to keep Daisy on her feet. For her part, Daisy tried to make corner shots to keep Skye scrambling. The two women were more than matched as the ball zipped back and forth between them.

Suddenly, pink petals grew around Daisy’s racket, which began spinning around. Daisy gave the ball a solid whack, and upon contact with Skye’s racket, it knocked her back a short distance.

Daisy’s next shot, a slice shot, zipped past Skye, earning the former a point and bringing the score to 15-love.

“You okay?” asked Daisy.

“I’m good,” Skye replied.

Smiling, Daisy served again, and for a few minutes, they had a rally going. Then, Skye threw all of her strength into her left arm and pulled off an excellent smash shot, tying the score at 15-15.

“Not bad,” said Daisy as she served a third time.

“If you can catch up to her, then you can pass her!” Cami cheered. “You can do it, Mom!”

Spurred by her daughter’s words, Skye fired off a corner shot, followed by a hefty topspin shot. Summoning a bed of flowers, Daisy leaped over to the ball, reaching it just in time. But Skye fired back with a flat shot and then curved her next shot, earning a point and bringing the score to 30-15.

Carolyn, Cami and Phillip cheered.

Daisy licked her lips and made the next serve, hard and fast. Skye fired back, clean and low, the spectators cheering them both as another rally got underway. Daisy tied the score again at 30-30, but her opponent surpassed her once again with a smash shot, bringing them to 40-30.

“Game point,” said the ref.

Daisy lobbed the ball toward Skye, who responded with a topspin shot. Skye’s lips were pressed together, her amethyst eyes glinted intently as she and Daisy kept firing the ball back and forth. And with a swift drop shot, Skye clinched the game point.

“Game—Skye,” said the ref. “Change court.”

Now, it was Skye’s turn to serve, and she began with a lightning-fast lob shot. Daisy was sent scrambling and diving after the tennis ball, as Skye’s serves were so swift. The single mom eventually curved a topspin shot, bringing the score to love-15.

Throughout the set’s second half, the score teeter-tottered between the two women. All of the spectators ate it up, some of them cheering for Skye and others cheering for Daisy. A few strands of hair worked their way loose from Skye’s ponytail and stuck to her face, and her cheeks were pink. Daisy’s jaw muscles twitched, and a steely glint came to her eyes.

“Come on, Skye,” she whispered.

Before long, the score was 30-40, and the next point would be the match point. Skye tossed the ball high into the air and lobbed it with all her might, forcing Daisy to use her Defensive Power Shot to send it arcing back. Carolyn, Cami and Phillip huddled together, watching their mom in anticipation. Luigi also sat quietly, biting his lip, as he watched Daisy. Only one of these women would advance to the next round—but which?

Taking a running start, Skye acrobatically leaped forward, her racket meeting the tennis ball with resounding impact and sending it slicing over the net. Daisy lunged after it, but her swing was too late, and it swished right past her.

“Game, set and match—Skye Davidson,” announced the ref.

Skye raised her arms in the air, gasping for breath, as her three kids bounced excitedly.

“Congratulations, Skye,” said Toadsworth. “You’re advancing to the next round!”

The spectators cheered.

“Way to go, Mom,” said Phillip as he and his sisters crowded around Skye. “We knew you could do it.”

“Do you know what this means?” asked Carolyn. “You’ll be facing Mario. _The_ Mario!”

“The Power Tennis Champion, no less,” added Cami.

Skye’s heart skipped a beat as she spotted Mario, deep in converse with Peach. “Wow,” she said. “I’m not dreaming, am I?”

“Nope,” said Carolyn.

Daisy approached them, a sweat towel draped around her neck. “Way to hustle, Skye,” she said.

“Same to you,” said Skye.

“I think you’re gonna give Mario a run for his money,” winked Daisy.

“I intend to,” Skye said determinedly.

And with that, she strode off the court with her kids in tow.


	6. Preliminaries 3: DK vs Diddy Kong

The next match was between DK and his nephew, Diddy Kong. Once the court was ready for them, the two Kongs sized each other up, rackets in hand.

“Ready, little buddy?” asked DK.

“You bet I am!” Diddy enthusiastically replied.

On the ref’s command, the tennis match began, with DK serving. The King of the Jungle had strength on his side, at the cost of speed and ball control. Diddy, however, was a speedy tennis player, albeit his swings were weaker than DK’s. Even so, the two Kongs were initially evenly matched, DK chaining off hefty topspin shots and Diddy replying with brisk slice shots.

At one point, Diddy stood on his hands and bent backward into a banana shape, springing forward and hitting the ball. As the ball made a half-circle, DK found that his sense of direction was briefly reversed, confusing him and causing him to miss one of Diddy’s shots. The score was now 15-love in Diddy’s favor.

DK wound up and lobbed the ball, Diddy crisply returning with a drop shot. The Kongs engaged in another rally, the stalemate finally broken when the smaller Kong executed a smash shot into the net’s corner, earning another point. DK’s next serve almost zipped out of bounds, so Diddy suited up in his signature barrel jetpack and blasted off after it, sending it arcing back toward DK.

Phillip nudged Carolyn. “Hey—which one are you rooting for?” he asked.

“I don’t know,” she replied. “I like them both.”

“Who would you rather face off against?” pressed Phillip.

“It doesn’t matter,” said Carolyn.

She watched as DK hopped into a cannon and launched the ball so forcefully that it sent Diddy skidding back a short distance. The King of the Jungle earned a point, bringing the score to 30-15. Diddy pulled himself together and executed a flat shot as DK served, the Kongs once again whacking the tennis ball back and forth. An excited hum arose from the stands as a topspin shot from Diddy brought the score to 40-15.

“Game point,” said the ref.

The Kongs stared intently at each other for a few seconds before DK served. Diddy hurried over to one of the corners and managed to curve the shot toward his opponent. DK fired back with a smash shot, and Diddy once again used his Acrobatic Banana move to send the ball past his uncle.

“Game—Diddy Kong!” announced the ref. “Change court!”

Once the two players were on opposite sides of the court, Diddy shook out his limbs before pulling off a fast, fierce serve. At this point, DK began relying on force more than anything else, and Diddy began relying on speed and timing. The smaller Kong scored the first point, but DK brought them to a tie moments later. With each serve, their scores kept inching up and up and up. DK even pulled off a Defensive Power Shot involving a banana! But it ended with the two of them staring each other down, the score 30-40 in Diddy’s favor.

“Match point,” said the ref.

Diddy served the ball harder than he’d ever served a ball in his life. DK lumbered forward, answering the serve with an equally forceful corner shot. Nimbly, Diddy intercepted the shot just in time, initiating yet another rally between them. And after Diddy executed a final Acrobatic Banana, he scored the final point and clinched the victory.

“Game, set and match—Diddy Kong!” announced the ref.

“Congrats, Diddy,” said Toadsworth. “You’re advancing to the next round!”

“All right!” cried Diddy, doing a series of celebratory backflips.

DK wiped his forehead and walked over to Diddy, patting him on the back to assure him that there were no hard feelings. “Great game, sport,” he said.

“Thanks,” said Diddy.

“I don’t care if you don’t make it to the finals,” said DK. “All that matters is that you play your best and have a great time.”

“Yeah,” Diddy agreed.

The two Kongs waved at the crowd before walking off the court.


	7. Preliminaries 4: Yoshi vs Carolyn

Carolyn took a deep breath, dispelling the butterflies in her stomach, before tying her hair back. Then, she turned and looked at Cami, Phillip and Skye, the three of them smiling at her encouragingly.

“You can do it, Carolyn,” said Skye. “I know you can.”

“Thanks, Mom,” said Carolyn.

She smoothed out her dark red tennis dress, grabbed her racket and made her way onto the court, where Yoshi waited for her.

“Yoshi!” the green dino said cheerfully.

“Good luck to you, too, Yoshi,” Carolyn replied. “Whatever happens, I’m just so happy to be here.”

Yoshi simply smiled in response.

They took their places on the court, and the ref started the match, with Carolyn being the first to serve. Like her mom, Carolyn was a speedster, and Yoshi just so happened to be one, too. While their shots weren’t as hefty or as long-ranged, neither could afford to stay in one place for too long. Carolyn had Yoshi diving for the corners, while Yoshi tended to curve most of his shots. At one point, Yoshi leaped into the air with a flutter jump before hitting the ball, which had a rainbow trail behind it. As Carolyn tried to return the ball, her speed was drastically reduced, and it was sheer luck that Yoshi didn’t score a point. Yoshi followed up with a drop shot, which Carolyn returned with a flat shot, netting her a point.

Skye, Cami and Phillip cheered.

“You’re doing great, Sis!” trilled Phillip.

Carolyn served the tennis ball with a lob shot, which Yoshi returned with a slice shot. His opponent hit back with a topspin shot, and for a few short minutes, there was a rally going. As Yoshi hit the ball with a smash shot, Carolyn nimbly cartwheeled across her side of the court, building up enough momentum to forcefully return the ball. Yoshi was blown back slightly, the ball sailing past him and earning Carolyn another point.

“Yeah!” Cami exclaimed.

Fire was in Carolyn’s veins as she tossed the ball into the air and heaved it over the net with her racket. Yoshi let out a small grunt as he fired back with a topspin shot, which Carolyn returned with a smash shot. Behind her, her family continued shouting encouragement, their words putting more strength into her swings and more speed under her feet. Her eye pupils were like pinwheels, a small smile forming on her lips. As Yoshi sent a flat shot toward her, she used her mom’s lunging technique to return the ball, bringing the score to 40-love.

“Game point,” said the ref.

Carolyn exhaled and kissed her racket. “Let’s rock this show,” she said quietly.

She tossed the tennis ball into the air and served it, Yoshi slicing it toward her. The ball volleyed back and forth between them several times before Yoshi leaped into an egg and rammed into the ball directly. In response, Carrie leaped into the air and smashed the ball downward. It bounced off the court once before soaring over Yoshi’s shoulder.

“Yeah! Go sis!” shouted Cami.

“Game—Carolyn Davidson,” announced the ref. “Change court.”

Skye, Phillip and Cami applauded as Carolyn moved to the other side of the court, her racket at the ready as Yoshi served. She returned the serve with a topspin shot, and another rally ensued. Eventually, Carolyn ended the stalemate with another lunging shot, scoring a point.

“I taught her everything she knows,” Skye said proudly as she looked on.

Yoshi sent some fiercer shots toward Carolyn, but she was able to return them with her lunging move. The green dino scored a point, but on the heels of this, Carolyn scored two more. Her siblings and her mom were on their feet, the former two hopping up and down as they cheered.

“Match point,” said the ref.

“Okay,” exhaled Carolyn, bringing her racket to her lips again. “Time to bring this home.”

She tossed the ball high into the air and brought her racket smashing down, lobbing the tennis ball toward Yoshi. He managed to return the shot with his Rainbow Flutter, and then Carolyn curved her next few shots toward him. Skye, Phillip and Cami held their breath as Yoshi volleyed a smash shot toward Carolyn, but the girl set her face, let out a breath and let loose with a final topspin shot, propelling the ball over the net and over Yoshi’s head.

“Game, set and match—Carolyn Davidson!”

Skye, Cami and Phillip cheered wildly as Carolyn’s face split into a grin.

“All right!” cried Toadsworth. “Carolyn will advance to the next round!”

Carolyn shook hands with Yoshi before rejoining her family, and they all grabbed each other for a group hug.

“We knew you could do it,” Skye said warmly.

“Thanks for cheering me on,” said Carolyn.

“Of course, Sis,” said Cami.

“We’ll go out to eat tonight,” said Skye. “My treat.”

Carolyn beamed. This day just couldn’t get any better.


	8. Preliminaries 5: Peach vs Koopa

A slight hush fell over the Peach Dome as the staff prepared the tennis court for the next match. Peach would be facing off against her frequent kidnapper, and everyone was looking forward to seeing her give him a run for his money. She didn’t have to necessarily _win_ over him, but she had to at least make him squirm a little.

That was exactly Peach’s mindset as she swept up her hair into a ponytail, adjusted her pink tennis dress and made sure her shoes were tied tightly enough. She gazed admiringly at her pink and white tennis racket before smiling at Mario as he approached her.

“I’ll be right here in case he decides to grab you in the middle of this,” Mario said, half-jokingly.

“Thanks, Mario,” said Peach. “When it comes to that turtle, you can’t be _too_ sure.”

Mario kissed her gently on the lips. “Kick his [bleep], Peachy!” he said.

Peach made a determined fist before striding onto the court, where her opponent waited for her.

“Looking good, Peachy,” chortled Koopa, standing there with his gold-and-purple racket. “Let’s make a deal. If you beat me, then I won’t bother you for a month. But if I win, then I’m adding an extra ‘visit’ to my schedule.”

Peach looked stonily at him.

“Giving me the silent treatment today, huh?” smirked Koopa. “Ah—can’t say I blame you. You need to save your energy. Still—I’ll consider dialing back my ‘visits’ if you win.”

Peach twirled her racket in her hands, still glaring at Koopa. She knew that he was lying. He’d never run out of ways to make her constituents miserable.

Mercifully, the match started, with Peach making the first serve. Koopa easily returned the first few shots, but the smug expression faded from his face as the object of his desires set up tricky curve shots. She was grounded in technique, after all, favoring good tennis strategies over raw power. And she didn’t want that turtle thinking that this would be an easy ride or just another way to flirt with and/or capture her.

With a lob shot, Peach scored the match’s first point, to a standing ovation from the audience. She drank in the cheers for a brief moment before glancing at Koopa and the stunned expression on his face.

“How about you step up your game instead of trying to think of ways to carry me off?” she asked sweetly.

She was handed a fresh tennis ball, which she kissed, before she tossed it into the air and launched it over the net. Snapping out of it, Koopa barely returned the serve in time, and their match picked up. All eyes were on Peach as she sent corner shots, topspin shots and flat shots over the net, an icy and intense look in her eyes. She wanted to make an example of her reptilian kidnapper, in front of her heroes, her constituents and in front of God Himself. And judging by the look on his face as he bore witness to her skills—so far, she was succeeding.

“All right—time to get serious,” muttered Koopa as he reared back his head and blew a blast of fire at the ball before sending it over the net.

Instinctively, Peach dodged the fiery ball, tying the score.

Koopa laughed, but Peach only had a cool look for him.

“Good,” said Koopa. “I have your full attention.”

Peach took a deep breath and served.

When a smash shot came her way, she closed her eyes and spun around, tiny hearts gathering around her. Finishing one spin, she delivered a skillful curve shot which nearly bowled her opponent over and briefly attracted him to the net. Taking advantage, Peach followed up with a lob shot, bringing the score back in her favor.

“Do I have _your_ full attention?” she asked.

She served. The tennis ball flew between them several times before Koopa used his fire breath again, tying the score. On the next serve, he tucked into his shell and spun around, ramming himself into the ball. Peach ran forward and hit the ball back with a slice shot, and after another brief rally, it was Koopa who took the lead with a smash shot.

“Ha, ha! How do you like _that_?” the turtle gloated, but Peach didn’t react.

“Game point,” said the ref.

Peach whispered something to herself as she served the ball, and Koopa returned the serve with a drop shot. That smugness was coming back, but she wouldn’t let it bother her. She’d have it gone from his visage in a heartbeat, anyway. The two volleyed the ball back and forth for about three minutes before Koopa used his shell spin move to send it zipping past Peach.

“Game—Koopa,” announced the ref. “Change court.”

The audience murmured in disbelief as Koopa smirked and struck several pompous poses. Then, he made a big show of stepping toward the other side of the tennis court. By contrast, Peach maintained a dignified walk, holding her racket tightly in one hand. When she reached the other side of the court, she waved to the spectators, smiling reassuringly. Her face, neck, upper chest, shoulders, arms and legs were glistening with sweat, and she was breathing a little heavily. A light flush was on her skin, a flush which only deepened when she met Koopa’s eyes.

“Very nice,” grinned Koopa before serving the ball.

Peach returned the serve with her spin move, and the set’s second half began. Again, Koopa’s cockiness took a hit as his opponent returned his next shots with increasing vehemence. The smirk faded from his face at the sight of her no-nonsense facial expression. She wasn’t as delicate as people had been led to believe. At all. As they remained neck-and-neck with each other score-wise, Koopa found himself growing remotely worried over his future as the MK’s top invader.

When the two were tied at 30, Koopa lobbed an especially powerful serve toward Peach. As the ball started flying past her, she blew a kiss at it. Instantly, the tiny hearts clustered around the ball and pulled it back into the court, allowing her to return the serve. The ball raced back and forth twice more before Koopa employed his fire breath, bringing the score to 40-30.

“Match point,” said the ref.

Peach breathed deeply, dripping with sweat, her tongue peeking out from between her lips. She watched the ball in Koopa’s hand as he casually tossed it up and down a few times. She watched his racket hit it. She watched it sail toward her. And she swung her racket, which connected with the ball and sent it back toward that reptile.

Releasing her breaths in soft grunts, Peach continued hitting the ball back, putting all of her muscles into her swings. Satisfaction briefly gleamed in her eyes when she saw Koopa’s brow crease with worry. He saw her as a sweet, ditzy Princess who spent all of her time going to parties and waiting for him to grab her at least twice a week—but he was gradually finding out that she was an excellent athlete who took sporting events such as these extremely seriously. Her decision to host these events had some substance behind it—it was one of several edicts she’d signed encouraging a healthier lifestyle among her constituents. And better physical fitness meant a better chance for her constituents to defend themselves against their frequent attackers. The opportunity to have some fun was another strong motivator, but still.

Peach heaved another lob shot toward her opponent—only for him to return it by spinning into it with his shell. She tried to use her Sweet Kiss to stay in the match, but the ball was unfortunately out of range.

“Game, set and match—Koopa!” said the ref.

“Yeah! Suck on that, mushroom heads!” Koopa guffawed as he postured for the crowd.

“What do you know?” asked Toadsworth. “The Koopa King has advanced to the next round.”

Half-hearted applause sprang up as Koopa continued to boast and gloat.

“Hey,” said Mario as he approached Peach. “You played hard, and you played your best.”

Peach nodded in agreement. “It doesn’t matter that I lost,” she said. “What _does_ matter is that at least I made the victory difficult for him.”

She gasped as she was suddenly picked up and hoisted over Koopa’s shoulder.

“Let’s celebrate, shall we?” laughed Koopa.

“God—m you!” cried Peach as she struggled. “I knew something like this would happen!”

But Koopa had only gone a few paces when he gently set her down. “I was just f—ing with you,” he said. “Another time, perhaps.”

He patted her on the back before striding off the court.

Peach rolled her eyes. “Whatever,” she huffed.


	9. Preliminaries 6: BJ vs Phil

“Congrats, Papa,” BJ said gleefully as he took out his own tennis racket and gave it a few practice swings.

“Thanks, kiddo,” said Koopa. “I hope you advance to the quarterfinals with me.”

“I hope so, too,” said BJ. “Promise me you won’t get mad if I don’t?”

“Of course I won’t get mad,” Koopa said softly. “You’re my son, and I love you no matter what.”

BJ smiled and hugged his dad.

“Now go break a leg,” said Koopa.

BJ winked before striding onto the court.

Skye bit her lip as she watched BJ. “Be careful with him, honey,” she said to Phillip.

Phillip tossed his head. “I’m not scared of him,” he said.

“I know,” said Skye, “but he could have some tricks up his sleeve. Keep your eyes and ears open, okay?”

“Okay,” said Phillip.

His mom and sisters each gave Phillip a good-luck kiss before he skipped onto the court.

BJ chuckled when he saw Phillip. “This isn’t the junior division, small fry,” he crowed. “You won’t last two minutes.”

“Oh, we’ll see,” Phillip retorted.

BJ bounced the tennis ball on the ground before smirking at Phillip. “Try to return _this_!” he said, winding up and serving the ball.

Crisply, Phillip hit the ball back, and the match was on. There was clearly no love lost between BJ and Phillip as the two boys whacked the ball back and forth. As Skye had warned, BJ was “tricky”—able to curve his shots and set up tricky maneuvers. However, the Koopaling’s reach left something to be desired, which Phillip capitalized with strong and long-ranged shots. Like his mom and sister, he had speed on his side, but he was also a technical player, pulling off corner shots from time to time. Currently, he was clad in gray shorts, a silver polo shirt, black tennis shoes and a silver baseball cap, energetically zipping from one corner to the other and hitting the tennis ball with flat shots or topspin shots.

But BJ just laughed. “You’re really good,” he said, “but try _this_ on for size.”

BJ pulled out the paintbrush he’d used in his Shadow Mario guise and gave the ball a couple of swipes with it before sending it over the net, along with two paintballs. Phillip was splattered by the paintballs, allowing the ball to shoot past him.

“Well played, kiddo!” cheered Koopa.

Phillip shook the paint out of his eyes and stared BJ down. “Come on,” he said softly.

BJ served, and Phillip returned with a lob shot. Droplets of paint flew off of him as he dashed back and forth, continuing to return BJ’s shots. At one point, Phillip leaped into the air, performed a somersault and hit the ball with a smash shot, tying the score.

“You were lucky,” said BJ, serving again.

“It’s not luck,” said Phillip as he returned the ball. “It’s practice. Surely, you’ve found time to practice in between helping your old man plot his evil schemes.”

“Hey!” admonished Skye. “Be nice!”

BJ glared and lobbed the ball over the net, knocking Phillip’s cap off to the side. The shot was ruled as an “out”, and Phillip simply adjusted the cap and waited for his opponent’s next move. He met the next shot with a slice shot and the next one with a drop shot. BJ then rolled to his left and used his paintbrush to hit the ball, but Phillip was ready with a spectacular flat shot, pulling ahead of the bratty Koopaling.

“Yeah!” cheered Skye.

Phillip met BJ’s next serve with a curved shot. In response, BJ launched the three paintballs at him again, but Phillip watched carefully and was able to pinpoint the real tennis ball. Unfortunately, the paint briefly slowed him down, but he flicked his racket clean and kept going. He lobbed the succeeding shots back at BJ, and one lob caused BJ to comically spin around a few times trying to return it.

“Game point,” said the ref.

BJ slit his eyes at Phillip before serving the ball. Phillip served back, the two of them exchanging topspin shots. Their respective parents hardly dared to breathe as they watched. Then, Phillip let out a breath and used his mom and sister’s singular lunging technique to send the ball sailing over the net, once again scoring against his foe.

“Game—Phillip Davidson,” announced the ref. “Change court.”

“Way to go, Phillip!” shouted Cami.

Phillip waved at his mom and sisters as he walked to the other side of the tennis court.

“All right, buddy,” said BJ. “Let’s see that serve of yours.”

“With pleasure,” said Phillip, dealing out his best serve yet.

BJ had to chase the tennis ball with his paintbrush to return the serve, and the boys volleyed it back and forth several times. Finally, Phillip hit the ball with an impressive lob shot, causing BJ to flop onto the ground when he swung his racket at it.

Phillip easily scored two more points, and by the time the match point rolled around, BJ was fuming. His shots were angry, haphazard and wild, and the ref had to penalize him once to get him to settle down. However, he still displayed a hostile attitude toward Phillip, taunting him as the two continued hitting the ball back and forth. However, Phillip didn’t respond to the taunts, continuing to concentrate, seeing nothing but the final point he needed to score.

And with one hefty swing of his racket, Phillip clinched the victory.

“Game, set and match—Phillip Davidson!”

BJ slammed his racket onto the ground and stormed off as Koopa hurried after him.

Skye, Carolyn and Cami raced onto the court and hoisted Phillip onto their shoulders.

“Good job, Phil!” laughed Carolyn.

“We knew you could beat him,” added Cami.

“And you didn’t lash out when he started taunting you,” Skye said warmly. “You really acted like a big boy today.”

Phillip turned and waved at the audience, who cheered.

“And with that, Phillip joins his sister in advancing to the next round,” said Toadsworth. “Our next scheduled match is—Opal Fox vs Cami Davidson.”

Hastily, Skye and her brood exited the court to help Cami get ready.


	10. Preliminaries 7: Opal vs Cami

When Cami reemerged onto the tennis court with her family in tow, she was ready for action. She was clad in a lavender tennis dress, white socks and white tennis shoes, and her hair was tied back by a purple ribbon. Her racket was also dark purple, as was the watch clasped to her wrist. Carolyn had her hand on one shoulder, Skye had her hand on the other shoulder, and Phillip held her free hand.

“You’ve got this, Cami,” Skye said softly. “We’ll be right at courtside, watching.”

“Thanks, Mom,” said Cami.

Carolyn gave her sis a hug. “Go out there, and show this Fox what you can do,” she said.

“With pleasure,” smiled Cami.

“Good luck, Sis,” trilled Phillip as he reluctantly let go of Cami’s hand.

Cami beamed at her mom and her siblings. “I’m gonna do my best!” she vowed.

Skye, Phillip and Carolyn sat back and watched as Cami met her opponent on the court.

Opal smiled as she saw her opponent stride towards her. Her hair was in two braids, and she wore a red-violet tennis dress with black socks and violet tennis shoes with light red accents. She clutched a red-violet tennis racket in her hand, and her sports watch was red with silver sparkles on it.

“Hi,” she greeted. “Cami, right?”

“Yeah. And you must be Opal.”

“I am. Give it your best.”

“Same to you.”

The two shook hands before the match started, with Cami being the first to serve, lobbing the ball over the net with all her strength. She was speedy, like her mom, but she was also technical, like her brother. Opal, by contrast, favored strength as well as trick shots, easily getting the ball to the corners and having average reach. Her braids bounced and swung as she and Cami traded slice shots, topspin shots and drop shots. Sky, Carolyn and Phillip leaned forward, clinging to the action as Cami skipped along her side of the court to return Opal’s shots. At one point, she used that lunging technique to lob the ball past Opal and score against her.

“That’s my girl!” crowed Skye.

Cami caught her breath and served again. This time, Opal practically rocketed the ball back at her, so Cami put some extra strength behind her swings, as well. During this go-round, the two executed flat shots and smash shots, rather than simple slice shots. Cami was already breaking a sweat, but she shook the perspiration clear of her eyes and kept hitting the ball back. Opal’s eyes were bright and remained on the ball as it kept flying toward her, returning it with almost professional swings. On one swing, she leaped high into the air, as if to perform a long jump, and then swung her racket in a downward motion, sending the ball earthward. Cami was pushed backward, and Opal scored a point.

“Keep at it, Cami!” cheered Phillip.

Licking her tongue across her lips, Cami served the ball. Opal sliced it back, and again, the two fiercely went at it, trading smash shots and topspin shots. Over the next few serves, the score teeter-tottered, with Cami leading one minute and Opal taking over the next. Skye, Carolyn and Phillip wouldn’t stop cheering hard for Cami, and the rest of the audience cheered for one player or the other.

Soon, the score was tied at 40, and now Cami and Opal were vying for the game point. Staring hard at her opponent, Cami launched the tennis ball over the net, which Opal crisply fired back. The ball flew back and forth between them several times before Opal wound up and delivered a hefty topspin shot which sent the ball flying past Cami.

“Game—Opal Fox,” said the ref. “Change court.”

“Don’t sweat it, Cami,” said Phillip. “You win some, you lose some.”

Cami nodded to him, focusing back on her opponent as she served the ball. Using her family’s lunging technique, she returned the serve, alternating between high and low shots as the match went on. She managed to score two consecutive points, but then Opal bounced back, tying the score once again. Cami curved her next shot, but then Opal whipped her head about, snagging the ball with one of her braids and pulling it back into the court. She followed up with a corner shot that whizzed right past Cami.

“Match point,” said the ref.

Opal streamed out a breath. So did Cami.

The older woman tossed the ball into the air and lobbed it over the net. Cami lobbed it back. The audience buzzed as a rally ensued between the two players, Skye, Phillip and Carolyn continuing to spur Cami on with encouraging words. Cami gave it everything she had left, but it was ultimately Opal who prevailed, sending a flat shot sailing into the corner.

“Game, set and match—Opal Fox!” announced the ref.

Opal and Cami smiled and shook hands before the former celebrated her victory. Cami’s folks were all smiles as she rejoined them.

“At least three of us are advancing,” said Phillip.

“And at least I’ll get to cheer you on,” added Cami.

“There’s another consolation prize,” Skye said warmly. “Watching Luigi take on Waluigi. And after that—we’ll go out to eat, and then—ice cream.”

Cami wore a [bleep]-eating grin. “Mom, you had me at ‘ice cream’!” she cried.


	11. Preliminaries 8: Luigi vs Waluigi

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter contains brief violence and questionable behavior.

“Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls,” said Toadsworth. “We’ve now come to the final preliminary match, and the last match of the day. I give you—Luigi Mario, pitted against Waluigi Wario!”

Everyone applauded enthusiastically as Luigi emerged onto the court, wearing a green polo shirt, green and white shorts, a green visor, green tennis shoes and a blue wristwatch. His tennis racket was also green, and it had an “L” on it. He stopped en route to the court to give Mario a hug.

“Don’t you worry,” he said. “I’ll give Waluigi a lot to think about.”

“Just be careful,” said Mario. “He may try to play dirty. He doesn’t like you, and you don’t like him.”

“He’s not setting me off today,” promised Luigi. “That’s a given.”

Confidently, Luigi strode onto the court and locked eyes with his foil, wearing a purple polo shirt, silver shorts and silver tennis shoes.

“Hey, Mr. Eyeballs,” snickered Waluigi. “Try not to cry too much when I win.”

Luigi didn’t so much as blink at the remark. _I’m not gonna lose. I’m gonna throw you out on your [bleep]_.

“What’s wrong? Boo got your tongue?” asked Waluigi. “Ah, no matter. This is no time to talk, anyway.”

_For once, we agree on something_.

The ref signaled for the match to begin, and Luigi seared Waluigi with a glare before tossing up the ball and lobbing it over the net. Waluigi made a big show of returning the serve, but Luigi just set his jaw as he ran forward and hit back with a flat shot.

Needless to say, everyone was rooting for Luigi. Waluigi had not only displayed poor sportsmanship alongside Wario during the doubles, but they’d also vandalized public property, doodled profane images on the Mario Bros’ icons and teamed up with the MK’s frequent invader to rain chaos on the affair. They should’ve been charged with multiple crimes, but Mario had insisted that they all let bygones be bygones and move on. Wario’s elimination provided a little salve, but they all wanted to see Waluigi and Koopa get knocked out of the bracket, too! And with Luigi’s all-around skills, the former’s elimination was all but inevitable.

They watched as Luigi pulled out a squeaky mallet, which worked like Mario’s Iron Hammer, rocketing the ball over the net. Waluigi made a dash and a dive for the ball, only to wind up pathetically on his face, bringing the score to 15-love in Luigi’s favor.

There were titters among the crowd as Waluigi got up and glowered at Luigi, who silently glowered back. The purple-clad man wasn’t glowering for long, as his opponent served a topspin shot at him. He snapped out of it just in time to return the serve, and an already-heated contest further ignited between them. Each man wanted to defeat the other in the most humiliating way possible, but at least Luigi was willing to play by the rules. Waluigi—not so much.

Jumping into the air, Waluigi rapidly spun around like a purple tornado before whacking the tennis ball hard. Luigi did his best to return the shot, only for the ball to slip past his racket and nail him in the shoulder. The man in green reeled backward as pain blossomed, his free hand automatically checking the injury. There was no blood, of course, but it throbbed, and there would be a bruise later on.

The audience was outraged.

“C’mon, ref!” snapped Daisy. “Didn’t you see that?”

The ref ruled the shot as out, but Waluigi wasn’t penalized, to everyone’s chagrin. Peach held onto Mario, fearing that he’d race onto the court and do something he’d regret.

“I’m okay,” said Luigi, straightening. “I’m okay.”

Ignoring the pain, he served, and the game resumed. It was apparent that Waluigi was intentionally trying to hit Luigi with the tennis ball. But Luigi was well aware of this, his reaction time sharpened to an enviable degree. His body would jerk slightly out of the way at just the right time, his racket swinging and countering the fast shots coming at him. And he thought about using Waluigi’s poor sportsmanship against him—getting him disqualified, perhaps. He shoved the thought from his mind. He wanted to win over Waluigi, but he wanted to win properly.

A curved shot brought the score to 30-love in Luigi’s favor. The man in green adjusted his visor and tucked a few locks of hair behind his ear before serving once again. Waluigi returned the serve with a low-angled shot, and Luigi fired back with a high-angled corner shot. And then Luigi took his personal feelings about Waluigi and willed them down to a manageable level. The man in purple had aggravated and inconvenienced him at every turn, but now wasn’t the time to think about it. He had to focus. Obviously, Waluigi wasn’t getting the hint, but he’d soon wish that he had. So, Luigi swallowed back as much animosity as he could and thought only about the ball, his racket, his swing and his opponent’s returning shots—and trying not to get hit with the ball.

Luigi pulled off a smash shot, and Waluigi’s side of the court inexplicably turned into a swimming pool as Waluigi swam the breaststroke toward the ball and lobbed it back. The man in green avoided being hit, but returning the lob almost broke his racket. On Waluigi’s next shot, Luigi hit the ball with his Squeaky Mallet, sending it shooting past Waluigi, who tripped trying to get to it.

40-love.

“Game point,” said the ref.

Blowing air between his lips, Luigi tossed the ball into the air and served it, and Waluigi returned with a vicious slice shot. But Luigi countered nicely with a topspin shot, which was met with a drop shot. Then, Luigi pulled off a flat shot, and Waluigi retaliated with a spectacular smash shot. The man in green swung and missed, the ball encountering his abdomen before bouncing onto the court. Gasping, Luigi doubled over, winded by the body shot. This time, the ref took notice and gave Waluigi a warning.

“Are you all right?” asked the ref.

Luigi composed himself. “Yeah,” he replied.

He wound up and served, the two rivals rallying until Luigi decided the set’s first half with a smash shot of his own. Once again, Waluigi wound up ungracefully sprawled on the court.

“Game—Luigi,” said the ref. “Change court.”

“I’ll get you,” growled Waluigi.

But Luigi ignored him.

Waluigi laughed as he served the ball. “Dodge this!” he cried.

Solidly, Luigi returned the serve, the game becoming more and more aggressive by the minute. Mario glared darkly at Waluigi as the latter continued aiming the ball at Luigi, and the spectators made their displeasure known with boos and hisses whenever the purple-clothed man endeavored to rile Luigi up and trick him into making mistakes. The fact that Luigi never took the bait was impressive.

“Waluigi,” he said simply, “you’re not supposed to hit me with the ball—you’re supposed to hit it _past_ me.”

“Well, the rules need to change,” sniped Waluigi, hitting the ball using his spinning move.

This time, Luigi was ready for it with his Squeaky Mallet. And again, Waluigi wound up on his face on the court trying to return the shot.

“Match point,” said the ref.

The Peach Dome fell silent.

Luigi stood with his racket, his face hard, waiting.

Waluigi’s eyes blazed as he served the ball. Barely missing a beat, Luigi returned the serve, along with Waluigi’s succeeding shots. He always made sure to curve his shots or return them from corners, hoping to trip up his purple-clad rival. But it seemed that Waluigi had given up on scoring a point and just wanted to spite Luigi.

A heavy topspin shot slipped past Luigi’s defenses, hitting him straight in the face. Luigi leaped into the air, giving a small cry of pain.

Everyone gasped in horror.

Waluigi laughed sadistically. “What do you think of _that_ , Mr. Eyeballs?” he sneered.

The ref paused the match and rushed over to check Luigi for injuries. One eye was starting to swell up, and he was bleeding, too. Luigi’s mouth was rounded in an “O” shape as he corralled his breathing. Waluigi wouldn’t make him cry today.

“Are you okay, Luigi?” asked the ref. “Can you continue?”

“I’m fine—I’m fine,” said Luigi, wiping the blood from his face.

“How many fingers am I holding up?” asked the ref, testing Luigi’s swollen eye.

“Three,” Luigi replied. “Please—I gotta finish this.”

He whipped around and harpooned Waluigi with a determined stare.

The ref glared at Waluigi. “One more stunt like that, and you’re disqualified,” he warned.

Waluigi didn’t seem to care.

Luigi’s face, shoulder and abdomen throbbed as the game resumed, but he paid the throbbing no mind. His eye was still swelling, but he didn’t care about that, either. All he cared about was finishing this match strong.

Deftly, he switched the racket to his other hand as Waluigi served. Luigi returned the serve, swift and crisp, along with two more, his coordination never faltering in spite of the blow he’d taken to his face. And then—Waluigi lobbed an especially hard shot toward him—and Luigi leaped up and forward, raised his racket—swung—connected. He punctuated the swing with a deep, emphatic grunt, watching the ball zoom back toward Waluigi, who gave a startled yelp and stumbled backward as it just missed his visor.

“Game, set and match—Luigi!” cried the ref.

Luigi placed his hands on his hips and nodded in triumph as Waluigi fumed.

“And there it is,” said Toadsworth. “Luigi has advanced to the next round, and the preliminaries have come to an end. Tomorrow, we’ll begin the quarterfinals, same time, same place. Be there!”

Everyone cheered.

Mario ran up to Luigi and took his face in his hands, examining the eye. “I’ll get some ice, okay?” he said.

“Okay,” said Luigi.

Mario led his victorious bro to the bench and wasted no time obtaining an ice pack. Upon contact with his swollen eye, Luigi swore in pain, clenching his fists as his body slightly jerked. Quickly, the pain receded to a persistent throbbing, and Luigi kept the ice pressed against his face, finding that it helped.

“What about your shoulder, and your…?” Mario began.

“Those bruises barely even hurt,” said Luigi.

Mario sent a fierce look toward Waluigi, who was stalking off the court.

“Bro,” Luigi said softly. “He’s not worth it. He’s just not worth it. Besides, I defeated him, and you defeated Wario. We don’t have to be bothered with them for the rest of the tournament.”

“Thank God,” said Mario.

Slowly, he helped Luigi up, and they joined the other participants and spectators as they filed out of the Peach Dome and headed home to rest and prepare for the quarterfinals.


	12. Quarterfinals Overview

Mario vs Skye

Diddy Kong vs Carolyn

Koopa vs Phillip

Opal vs Luigi


	13. Quarterfinals 1: Mario vs Skye

The next day began similarly to the previous. Cars began cruising into the Peach Dome parking lot as early as 6:15a.m. The eight remaining participants filed into the locker rooms at around 6:30, and the venue opened its doors at 6:45. Security was tighter than normal, as the participants and spectators feared that Wario and Waluigi would pull another stunt after being eliminated from the tournament a second time. But so far, there was nothing to worry about.

Meanwhile, Mario was feeling great. Not only had he exacted payback against Wario, but also he’d made it to the quarterfinals. He’d be facing Skye this morning, and he’d seen that she was a driven, experienced player. But he welcomed the challenge. He welcomed another chance at taking home another Power Tennis trophy.

The man in red took out his racket and gazed lovingly at it. “We’re on our way, buddy,” he said. “We’re on our way.”

He heard someone else enter the locker room and sit beside him. It was Luigi.

Mario turned and looked at his lil’ bro. A nasty, blue-black shine was around his eye and across the bridge of his nose. But aside from that, a sunny smile was on his face as he got situated.

“You okay?” asked Mario.

“Yeah. It’s not a life-threatening injury, you know. It’s just a black eye.”

“He still should’ve been punished,” said Mario.

“I agree,” said Luigi, “but I punished him, in a way, by knocking him out of competition. Again.”

Mario smiled. “I’m proud of you, Luigi,” he said. “Good luck with your match later today.”

“And good luck with yours,” replied Luigi.

The bros hugged tenderly before grabbing their rackets and their sports drinks and striding out of the locker room.

Courtside, Skye was also getting ready for her match, Carolyn sitting on one side and Phillip sitting on the other. Cami was seated a short distance away, in regular clothes. Today, Skye was wearing a royal blue tennis dress with small white stars on it, along with indigo socks, blue tennis shoes and a blue wristwatch. Her hair was tied back with a blue ribbon, and as a precaution, she’d brought along some protective eyewear. She still couldn’t believe she was facing Mario this morning.

“Don’t worry, Mom,” said Carolyn. “We’ll cheer you on.”

“Yeah,” said Phillip. “Whatever happens, you’ll still be the best Mom ever.”

Skye beamed. “Thanks,” she said.

At 8:45, Toadsworth arrived, his microphone in hand as he addressed everyone.

“Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls—good morning, and welcome to the Quarterfinal round of the Power Tennis Singles Tournament!” he said. “This round will consist of four one-set matches. First on the agenda today is Mario “Jumpman” Mario vs Skye Davidson!”

A cheer arose as Mario and Skye strode onto the court, waving to the spectators before facing each other.

“Is Luigi okay?” asked Skye.

“He has a black eye, but he’s not about to let that stop him,” grinned Mario.

“Good for him,” said Skye. “Ready to do this?”

“Oh, yeah—let’s-a go!”

They shook hands, and at 9:00 on the dot, their match began.

Mario served first, and Skye returned the serve with a lob shot. Then, the two of them exchanged slice shots, and then topspin shots. When Mario tried to trip Skye up with a drop shot, she lunged forward and sent the ball back over the net. Using his Spin Jump, Mario returned the ball, but Skye’s next shot was a smash shot which zipped past him, bringing the score to love-15.

Carolyn, Cami and Phillip cheered.

Mario served again, and Skye speedily returned the ball. Then, the man in red used his Iron Hammer to lob the ball back at her. Using her lunging technique, Skye managed to return the fierce serve, and for several minutes, there was a rally between them. Carolyn, Cami and Phillip egged their mom on, while the rest of the Peach Dome cheered for both competitors. Skye swept aside some hair that had worked loose from her ponytail and curved a low-angle shot toward Mario. He charged forward and hit back with a flat shot, tying the score.

The majority of the spectators cheered.

“Not bad,” said Skye.

“Just practicing,” said Mario.

He wound up and served a third time, Skye returning with a high angle corner shot. Mario licked his lips and began returning Skye’s succeeding shots with flat shots or Smash shots, but speed remained on the young woman’s side. A hard glint emerged in Mario’s eyes as he put more strength behind his swings, eventually pulling ahead with a lucky Offensive Power Shot.

“You okay?” asked Mario.

“Yeah—the ball didn’t hit me,” said Skye. “Besides, I have protective eyewear on.”

_I should’ve given Luigi some protective eyewear, too_ , thought Mario as he served once more.

But feeling guilty would have to wait. The ball came arcing back toward him, and he quickly sent it back toward Skye with a crisp slice shot. A drop shot from her had him leaping toward the ball and returning it with an underhanded swing. The ball flew back and forth between them several more times before Mario pulled off a hefty flat shot, bringing the score to 40-15.

“Game point,” said the ref.

Skye pressed her lips together as Mario served the ball, which she returned with a sharp corner shot. He fired back with a topspin shot—and then she leaped into the air and sent it spiraling toward him. The ball nearly flew into the corner, but Mario executed his Spin Jump and fired it back toward Skye, who swung her racket at it and missed.

“Game—Mario,” said the ref. “Change court.”

The two players swapped sides, and then Skye tossed the ball into the air and served.

Face flushed with exertion, Mario returned Skye’s serve. The speedy single mom was able to hold her own against her all-around opponent, even setting up trick shots from time to time. Once again, she was the first to score a point, and she was actually able to keep the score tied as Mario tried pulling ahead.

“You’re doing great!” crowed Phillip. “Don’t give up now!”

_I won’t_ , thought Skye as she sent a high-angle shot toward Mario. But he pulled out his Iron Hammer and sent the ball blowing right past her, bringing the score to 30-40.

“Match point,” said the ref.

Mario took in a breath and slowly streamed it out. Across from him, Skye did the same thing.

And then the young woman launched the ball into the air and lobbed it over the net toward her opponent. With a clean, low shot, Mario returned the serve, and the two whacked the tennis ball back and forth with increased power in their swings. Carolyn, Phillip and Cami watched with greedy eyes. The other spectators and participants cheered up a storm. Over and over, the two competitors served and returned, neither willing to back down.

Gripping her racket with both hands, Skye swung it with all her might, sending the ball zipping toward Mario. He, too, shifted his hold on the racket and hit the ball back with all of the power he could muster. Skye made a dive for the ball, but she missed by a hair as it flew into the corner and secured Mario’s victory.

“Game, set and match—Mario!” announced the ref.

“Yes!” Mario exclaimed, leaping high into the air.

The entire stadium cheered. Luigi beamed.

And her loss couldn’t knock the smile from Skye’s face.

“Thanks for a great game, Skye,” said Mario as he and Skye shook hands.

“Thanks for the chance,” Skye replied.

“And—it looks like Mario will advance to the semifinals!” Toadsworth said brightly. “Let’s give him another hand!”

More cheering burst out.

With a jubilant cry, Luigi grabbed Mario in a big, brotherly hug. “Way to go, Bro!” he cried.

Mario just smiled as he hugged his bro back.

“Congratulations, Mario,” Peach joined in.

“I still have a ways to go,” Mario said softly, “but thanks.”

With a soft giggle, Peach kissed Mario on the cheek.

Feeling over the moon, the man in red spun around and leaped high into the air in victory.


	14. Quarterfinals 2: Diddy Kong vs Carolyn

“I may have been eliminated, but at least you still have a shot,” said Skye, smiling at Carolyn.

Carolyn smiled back, her blood pumping. “True,” she said.

Skye kissed her daughter’s racket and handed it to her. “It’s for luck,” she explained.

“Thanks, Mom,” Carolyn said cheerfully as she hefted the racket in one hand.

Today, Carolyn wore a salmon tennis dress with gold accents, and her hair was in a braid. Pink tennis shoes were on her feet, and her wristwatch was also pink. Resolutely, she smacked her racket against her palm, gave her folks a big smile and strode onto the tennis court.

There, she met her opponent, Diddy Kong.

“Hey, Carolyn!” greeted Diddy. “Ready to play?”

“You bet I am,” Carolyn replied. “Good luck to both of us!”

“That’s the spirit!” said Diddy.

The ref signaled for the match to begin, with Diddy making the first serve. Using her speed and agility, Carolyn easily returned her opponent’s first few shots. However, she messed up when Diddy stood on his hands, bent his body into a banana shape and then snapped himself forward to hit the ball. Her racket overshot the ball, netting Diddy a point.

“Don’t worry, Carolyn—you can do it!” trilled Skye.

Diddy served a second time, and Carolyn returned with a crisp flat shot. The ball volleyed between her and Diddy for a while before she took a chance, lunged forward and curved her shot, tying the score.

Her family cheered.

“You got this, Diddy!” DK shouted.

Carolyn pulled her racket to her face and solidly returned Diddy’s next serve. He fired back with a low shot, but she dove toward the corner and lobbed it back. Diddy performed his Offensive Power Shot, but Carolyn learned from last time and returned the power shot with her lunging shot. She then sliced the next shot into the corner, pulling ahead of Diddy.

“Yeah!” Cami exclaimed.

When Diddy served, Carolyn aimed her next returning shots a bit lower than usual, hoping to dissuade her foe from using his Offensive Power Shot. These shots were also fast and almost always aimed at the corner, forcing Diddy to suit up in his jet pack to try and return the ball. Carolyn’s braid swung to and fro as she let fly with fierce topspin shots, eventually scoring a third point.

“Game point,” said the ref.

“Do it, Sis,” whispered Phillip.

Diddy wound up and served. Carolyn returned with a smash shot, and Diddy followed up with a drop shot, which she sent back with a drop shot of her own. Then, Diddy curved a high angle shot, and Carolyn set her face, dashed into the corner and hit the ball with a two-handed swing from her racket, sending it rocketing into Diddy’s corner.

“Game—Carolyn Davidson,” said the ref. “Change court.”

Skye, Cami and Phillip whooped.

Now, it was Carolyn’s turn to serve, tossing the ball high in the air and lobbing it with all her strength. Diddy barely managed to return the hefty serve, and Skye, Phillip and Cami watched excitedly as the ball continued sailing back and forth between the two competitors. Carolyn used her lunging technique twice, and Diddy used his Offensive Power Shot several more times, as well. The score started out love-30 in Diddy’s favor, but steadily, Carolyn pulled ahead with her speed, lunges, corner shots, curved shots and strong serves. First, she tied the score at 30, and with a stunning topspin shot, she brought the score to 40-30.

“Match point,” said the ref.

“You need one more, Carolyn!” Cami sang out. “Only one more!”

Carolyn closed her eyes and breathed deeply. “Okay,” she said softly. “Here I come.”

Summoning all of her strength, Carolyn wound up and served the ball. Diddy scampered over and returned the serve, and once again, there was a rally between them. And finally, seeing the ball coming toward her, Carolyn leaped into the air, gave a huge yell and brought her racket crashing down on the ball, smashing the ball toward the court and into the corner.

“Game, set and match—Carolyn Davidson!” announced the ref.

Phillip, Cami and Skye leaped to their feet, cheering their lungs out.

“We now have Carolyn advancing to the semifinals,” said Toadsworth. “I’m seeing some good tennis playing so far!”

Triumphantly, Carolyn returned to her family, who raced in at once, hugging her wildly.

“You’re on a roll, Carolyn!” laughed Skye. “I could never be prouder of you!”

Carolyn blushed.

“And,” added Cami. “You’ll have the opportunity to face Mario yourself.”

“THE Mario,” emphasized Phillip. “Mr. Nintendo. Sis—you’re the luckiest girl in the world!”

“Maybe I am, Phil,” said Carolyn. “Maybe I am.”


	15. Quarterfinals 3: Koopa vs Phillip

“All right, Phil,” said Carolyn. “You defeated BJ—now let’s see if you can defeat his Papa!”

Phillip beamed. “That’ll be the cherry on the sundae,” he said. “The King of Koopas—defeated by a kid! He won’t be so high and mighty then!”

“Hey! Don’t boast,” admonished Skye. “What Koopa does is reprehensible—but you still need to be a good sport, all right?”

“All right,” sighed Phillip. “I still hope I can beat him, though.”

He gave his mom and sisters a kiss each before walking onto the court, tennis racket in hand.

Today, Phillip wore a dark blue polo shirt, royal blue shorts and royal blue socks and tennis shoes, with a dark blue wristwatch and baseball cap to match. Determination was in his eyes as he sized up his opponent, who smirked back.

“Don’t worry, kiddo,” said Koopa. “I’ll _try_ to go easy on you.”

Phillip glared at him. “Don’t talk down to me,” he said.

Koopa spread his hands. “I’m just trying to do you a favor,” he said.

With a signal from the ref, the match began.

Koopa flung the ball into the air and served it toward Phillip, who returned with a low corner shot. In response, the overgrown turtle lobbed the tennis ball at Phillip, whose reflexes just barely rescued him from getting hit in the face.

With a laugh, Koopa returned with a flat shot. “You know what you’re doing, I’ll give you that,” he said.

Phillip responded with a topspin shot. “It runs in the family,” he said.

“That’s some excellent footwork you’ve got there,” said Koopa, “but let’s see how well you do when I turn up the heat.”

He returned Phillip’s next shot with his Fire Breath, causing the boy to instinctively dodge and bringing the score to 15-love.

“Oh, boy,” groaned Peach as she watched. That turtle had used the same tactic against her.

Phillip glowered. “You’ll pay for that,” he said.

“Phillip!” admonished Skye.

But Koopa just chuckled. “Oh, we’ll see,” he said before serving again.

Phillip pulled himself together and returned the serve with a lob shot. Using his family’s signature lunge, he managed to tie the score, and then tie it again as Koopa tried to pull ahead. But then, Koopa started sending trickier and speedier shots Phillip’s way, laughing and guffawing as the boy scrambled across the court. Eventually, the turtle tucked into his shell and barreled himself into the tennis ball, taking the lead once more.

“Game point,” said the ref.

“You want me to dial it back some more for you?” asked Koopa.

Phillip stared hard at his opponent, his jaw working.

“I’ll take that as a ‘no’,” said Koopa, serving the ball.

Without missing a beat, Phillip returned the serve, the ball soaring back and forth between the two for several minutes. Then, Phillip leaped into the air, did a front flip and slammed his racket on the ball, only for Koopa to return the powerful shot with his Shell Spin move. Phillip then pulled off a Smash Shot, only for his opponent to respond with his Fire Breath, and again, the boy dodged the fiery ball, which flew into the corner.

“Game—Koopa,” announced the ref. “Change court.”

“Nothing personal, kiddo,” said Koopa. “It’s just good business. Your serve.”

Phillip served an angry lob shot at his opponent, which the reptile crisply returned with a low shot.

“Temper, temper, Phillip,” Koopa chided in a sing-song voice. “You don’t wanna make any mistakes, do you?”

In response, Phillip curved a high-angle shot towards Koopa. “No, I don’t,” he said. “Do you?”

They exchanged several flat shots and drop shots, Phillip eventually lunging and sending the ball sailing over Koopa’s head, scoring a point.

Cami, Skye and Carolyn cheered.

“Impressive,” snickered Koopa. “Let’s see if you can do more of those.”

Phillip drew in a breath and served again.

“Why is he taunting him?” asked Carolyn.

“I think he’s trying to rile him up,” Skye said worriedly. “Phillip can’t take the bait.”

“You’re playing great, Phil!” shouted Cami. “Don’t give him what he wants!”

Cami’s voice worked its magic, temporarily soothing Phillip. But as Koopa tied the score and then pulled ahead, something about the smirk on that reptile’s face started getting on his nerves. And for the life of him, he couldn’t stop himself from dodging the Fire Breath, rather than attempting to return the ball launched at him with the Fire Breath.

“It’s okay, Phillip,” said Peach. “I had that issue, too.”

Koopa sent a shot whirling past Phillip, and then let out a whoop. “You can’t beat the King, baby!” he gloated.

“Match point,” said the ref.

Phillip couldn’t give up—he was growing frustrated, but he’d rather lose than forfeit so late in the game. Lancing a fiery stare into Koopa, he tossed the ball into the air and served it as hard as he could. Koopa tucked into his shell and raced to the corner to return the serve, and a heated rally ensued between them, everyone cheering for Phillip for obvious reasons. But there were times when the good guys didn’t always win, and what one could only hope for was for another good guy to topple the bad guy from his little high horse.

Koopa narrowed his eyes as Phillip sent the ball towards him. “This is for you, BJ,” he said as he hit the ball with a mighty topspin shot, earning the victory.

“Game, set and match—Koopa,” announced the ref, a little unhappily.

“Better luck next time, kiddo,” said Koopa as he struck a pose.

“Well, wouldn’t you know it—the King of Koopas will advance to the semifinals,” said Toadsworth, also a little unhappily.

“It’s okay, Phil,” said Skye when Phillip rejoined her and the others. “There’s a chance that whoever wins the next match will beat him.”

“You played your hardest, though,” said Cami.

“Let’s go get something from the concession stand,” said Skye, “and then we’ll watch the upcoming match. How does that sound?”

Phil slowly smiled. “That sounds good,” he replied.

Off they went toward the concessions area, completely ignoring Koopa as he continued to grandstand, brag and boast.


	16. Quarterfinals 4: Opal vs Luigi

Opal was all smiles as she stepped onto the court. Today, she was clad in a bright orange tennis dress with yellow stripes on it, with gold socks, orange tennis shoes and an orange wristwatch. Her hair was in a bun, held in place by a red-orange hair tie. The young woman drew in a breath and let it out. She still couldn’t believe she was squaring off against a pillar of the MK’s community.

Luigi stood across from her, his eyes meeting hers, a bright smile on his lips. All things considered, he was feeling awesome. Something stirred deep within him, telling him that not only could he advance to the quarterfinals, but he could also advance to the semifinals, and then the grand finals and then—actually— _win_.

He’d always wanted to win. And he was tired of always coming in second.

“Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls,” said Toadsworth. “We have come to the last match of the quarterfinals. I give you—Opal Fox vs Luigi Mario!”

The crowd cheered. Both competitors waved.

“I wish them both the best of luck,” said Toadsworth.

Then, Opal and Luigi faced each other.

“Are you okay?” asked Opal.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” said Luigi. “Thanks, though.”

“I’m really sorry he did that,” sighed Opal.

“It’s behind me now,” Luigi told her. “I defeated him, and I’m not thinking about him or his behavior anymore. My eyes are on what’s ahead.”

Opal nodded in approval. “Good man,” she said.

The two shook hands, and then Opal served the ball, starting the match.

Luigi set his face and returned Opal’s serve, his focus locked in on the ball and nothing else. He couldn’t stand still for long, nor could he stay far away from the net for long. Opal could send the tennis ball flying long distances, and most of her shots were tricky. Luckily, the man in green had his Squeaky Mallet to even the score—along with another secret weapon.

With a soft grunt, Opal sent a smash shot toward the corner. Whirling toward the ball, Luigi flung his racket toward it and pulled out a familiar red vacuum cleaner, bringing both ball and racket toward the court with the suction. Opal looked on, slack-jawed, but snapped out of it just in time to whack the ball back.

“Awesome!” trilled Daisy as she watched the action.

“You said it,” Peach chimed in.

Luigi and Opal traded several more shots before the former lunged into the air and lobbed the ball hard over the net. Opal swung at it and missed, and Luigi earned a point.

“My God. You’re amazing,” gasped Opal. “I never would’ve thought of bringing a ghost vacuum to a tennis match.”

Luigi smiled at her in response.

Opal tossed the ball into the air and served it again, only for Luigi to lob it back. At this point, Opal knew that she had to play more carefully. She knew of Luigi’s envious speed, high jump height and overall better athleticism compared to Mario. She also knew that he _really_ wanted to advance to the semifinals. But so did she. To that end, she curved many of her shots, sending them toward the corners. However, Luigi always caught up to the ball with acrobatic leaps and sent it back to her. He fired off a speedy, low-angle shot, scoring another point.

“Yeah!” cheered Daisy. “I think he has a shot!”

Rumbles emerged among the audience as Opal served a third time. Luigi returned this serve with a topspin shot and then answered her next shots with flat shots and lobs. A feeling he couldn’t place was stirring deep within him, a feeling which only grew with each shot he returned. Whatever it was, it felt _great_.

Meanwhile, Peach nudged Mario, who was watching the match with bated breath. “A Coin for your thoughts?” she offered.

“I think…” Mario began. “I think he’s gonna make it,” he said.

“Should you advance to the grand finals, you’ll have to face him,” said Peach.

“It’ll be tough,” conceded Mario, “but I think I can beat him.”

He turned back as Luigi sent a corner shot toward Opal, who leaped for it and missed. The score was now love-40.

“Game point,” said the ref.

Opal served the ball, curving it, but Luigi was waiting for it with his Squeaky Mallet, sending it bounding back toward her. She sliced it back over the net, and he followed with another fast, low-angle shot. The two of them rallied for a minute or so before Luigi leaped up and slammed the ball over the net, out of Opal’s reach.

“Game—Luigi,” said the ref. “Change court.”

Applause sprang up as the two competitors moved to the opposite sides of the tennis court.

Now, it was Luigi’s turn to serve. He stared intently at his opponent, and then at the ball before lobbing it over the net. His next shots came fast and hard, forcing Opal to scramble and put some more speed under her feet to volley them back. However, she was able to score one point against him, and then another.

“Wow,” breathed Mario. “They may have to do a tiebreaker on this one.”

“Don’t speak too soon,” cautioned Daisy.

The Flower Princess was right. Intensity blazed from Luigi as he served a third time, keeping both of his Power Shots handy. He vacuumed back the shots that Opal managed to send into the corner and used his Squeaky Mallet to send out speedy corner shots. One ball was ruled “out”, but on the next few serves, Luigi tied the score and then took the lead.

“40-30,” said the ref. “Match point.”

_Okay_ , thought Luigi, _Here I go_.

With an emphatic grunt, he served the ball as hard as he could. Opal leaped up and sent the ball downwards over the net, and Luigi returned with a drop shot. The Peach Dome fell into semi-silence as the ball volleyed back and forth between the two. Only one more point would decide this match. Only one more…

And then Luigi curled back his arm and swung the racket, squarely hitting the ball and sending it shooting over the net and past his opponent.

“Game, set and match—Luigi,” announced the ref.

Luigi caught his breath as the audience cheered.

“I don’t believe it,” breathed Toadsworth. “Luigi has advanced to the semifinals! Way to go, Luigi!”

“All right! You’re on your way, sweetie!” cheered Daisy.

Luigi took her in his arms and kissed her. “I am,” he murmured in her ear. “And you wanna know something? I think I’m gonna win.”

“Thank you all for coming,” said Toadsworth. “Be sure to catch the semifinal round tomorrow—same time, same place!”

The spectators filed out of the Peach Dome and toward the parking lot, and the competitors retreated to the locker rooms to shower, change into their normal clothes and head home.


	17. Semifinals Overview

**Eliminated from Prelims:** Wario, Daisy, DK, Yoshi, Peach, BJ, Cami, Waluigi

 **Eliminated from Quarterfinals:** Skye, Diddy Kong, Phillip, Opal

 **Semifinals Schedule:** Mario vs Carolyn, 9a.m.; Koopa vs Luigi, 12noon

 **Grand Finals Schedule:** ? vs ?, 9a.m. the following day


	18. Semifinals 1: Mario vs Carolyn

The next day commenced just like the previous two, with the Peach Dome parking lot filling up with cars at around 6:15a.m. and spectators being let in at around 6:45. By 7:15, the final four contestants were in the locker room, preparing for their matches as the eliminated participants took their seats courtside.

Mario changed into his polo shirt, shorts, socks and tennis shoes and gripped his tennis racket with both hands.

“What do you say to taking another tennis tournament by storm?” he asked. “I think we can. I think we can. I think we can…”

“Hey, Bro.”

Mario turned and smiled as Luigi walked in. The swelling around his eye had lessened considerably, albeit a blue-black ring was still around it.

“Hey,” replied the man in red.

“Think you can make another win happen?” asked Luigi.

“Oh, yeah!”

“Then I’m rooting for you,” said Luigi. “I’m also rooting for Carolyn, but—if you think you have a shot, then take it.”

“Will do, Bro.”

“And don’t worry. I won’t hold back against that turtle. He’ll be sorry for knocking Peach and Phillip out of the tournament.”

“I know,” Mario said softly. “ _In bocca al lupo, fratellino_.”

“ _Crepi_ ,” replied Luigi.

He squeezed Mario on the shoulder before heading over to his own locker.

_I have a shot, too_ , thought Luigi, _and I as sure as the Inferno am gonna take it_.

**…**

By 8:30, the Peach Dome was almost filled to capacity, with many more watching from home. As Carolyn stood on the tennis court, she listened to the spectators humming around her. She took a deep breath, and then another, to calm the butterflies in her stomach. All of these people were gathered here to watch her face off against _the_ Super Mario. She had to silently repeat that several times in order for her mind to fully accept it.

“Here we go,” said Skye as she helped Carolyn adjust her red and blue tennis dress.

“I’m still a little nervous,” said Carolyn.

“Just breathe, Sis,” said Phillip. “Just breathe.”

“Thanks for being here,” Carolyn softly intoned. “It really means a lot.”

“It doesn’t matter if you win or lose,” Skye told her. “Just do the best you can.”

“Do the best I can,” repeated Carolyn.

“Even so, we’ll be rooting for you!” chirped Cami.

Carolyn grinned, her butterflies gone. “Time to do this,” she said.

Then, Toadsworth stepped forward to greet the crowd. “Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls,” he said. “Welcome to the semifinal round of the Power Tennis tournament! This round will consist of two, three-set matches. And whoever wins these two matches will advance to the Grand Finals. Are you ready?”

The crowd roared its assent.

“Then let’s begin the day’s first match. I give you—Mario ‘Jumpman’ Mario vs Carolyn Davidson!”

More cheering arose as Mario and Carolyn strode onto the court, waving to the crowd. Then, they faced each other and shook hands.

“I won’t make this easy for you, Mario,” warned Carolyn.

“And I won’t have it any other way,” grinned Mario.

Carolyn’s eyes twinkled. “Let’s go,” she said.

“Okeydokey!” Mario responded.

They stood there, readying themselves, and then the ref started the match.

“You can do this, Carolyn!” shouted Phillip.

Carolyn watched intently as Mario served the ball, returning the serve with a good flat shot. Mario answered back with a good topspin shot, and from there, the game was on. Carolyn’s speed would dominate one minute, only for Mario’s all-around skills to take control the next. Who would win the best out of these three sets was anyone’s guess now.

“You go, Bro!” Luigi shouted.

Spurred by his brother’s cry, Mario sliced a hefty corner shot towards Carolyn, who easily countered with with her lunging technique, curving it back. With his Iron Hammer, the man in red propelled the ball back toward his opponent, but she returned it with a smash shot. With each point Mario earned, Carolyn earned another. Eventually, the score was 30-40 in Carolyn’s favor.

“Game point,” said the ref.

Mario lobbed the ball at Carolyn, and the seesawing advantage continued, Skye cheering on her daughter as Luigi cheered on his big bro. And with a lob of her own, Carolyn sent the ball over the net and past her opponent.

“Game—Carolyn Davidson,” said the ref. “Change court.”

Now, it was Carolyn’s turn to serve. From the second her racket hit the ball, her folks were on their feet, cheering like mad. The shots volleyed back and forth between the two players, the two of them continuously inching ahead of one another until Carolyn took the lead, 40-30.

“Set point,” said the ref.

Everyone briefly fell silent as Mario and Carolyn exchanged flat shots and drop shots. And with a sharp corner shot, the latter brought the ball home.

“Game and set—Carolyn Davidson,” said the ref.

“Awesome job, Carolyn—awesome job,” said Skye. “Just two more to go.”

But on the second set, Mario stepped up his game. His serves became stronger and his shots became speedier. He also used his Spin Jump to retrieve the ball from the corner. It didn’t take long for him to pull ahead, but Carolyn wasn’t about to give up. The cheers for both players started up again as they sent the ball from one to the other with increasingly fierce swings from their rackets.

Mario emerged the victor of the second set, tying the two at one set each. The third and final set would decide the match’s outcome.

The two players stared each other down before Mario served. Carolyn fired back, fast and low, and a heated contest ensued between them.

“C’mon, Sis—give him everything you have!” trilled Cami.

“Don’t give up, Big Bro—you’re so close!” shouted Luigi.

Slowly but surely, the odds tipped in Mario’s favor. And as Carolyn saw the chance of advancing to the finals slipping from her fingers, she grew flustered and started making mistakes. During the last half of the final set, her serves were haphazard and almost hit Mario, and the ref had to give her a warning before she finally managed to compose herself. If she was to lose this match, then she’d lose on her own terms.

Carolyn put her last dregs of energy into the game as she and Mario jockeyed for the crucial match point. She managed to suck the breath out of the entire arena with two lunging shots, which was an accomplishment in and of itself. Then, she vaulted into the air and sent a Smash shot toward Mario. As the ball started to zip past him, Mario did his Spin Jump and recovered the ball in the nick of time, firing it back towards his opponent with as much power as he could muster. Carolyn vaulted toward the ball, but it was too little, too late.

The ball flew right past her.

The match was over.

“Game, set and match—Mario!” announced the ref.

“Oh, yeah!” Mario exclaimed, leaping into the air and spinning around a few times.

The Peach Dome descended into thunderous applause.

“Super Mario advances to the Grand Finals!” exclaimed Toadsworth. “Let’s see if he can take home another trophy!”

“Good job, Carolyn,” said Mario, shaking his opponent’s hand.

“Thanks,” said Carolyn, “and good luck to you.”

“Good luck to you, too,” said Mario.

Carolyn joined her family, who lavished her with hugs and kisses.

“Way to hustle,” beamed Skye. “You may have lost to Mario, but at least you made it _this_ far. And for that, I’m proud of you.”

“Thanks, Mom,” said Carolyn.

“The next match doesn’t start until noon,” said Skye. “How about we head over to the concessions stand for a nice, big lunch?”

“Okay,” her kids said in unison.

Arm-in-arm, the Davidson family walked off as Mario continued to celebrate his victory.


	19. Semifinals 2: Koopa vs Luigi

“We have now come to the last match of the day,” said Toadsworth. “Hang on to your seats, ladies and gentlemen, because this is bound to be an intense matchup. One of our heroes will be facing our longtime enemy. Of these two, only one of them will face Mario in the Grand Finals!”

Mario sat courtside, biting his lip. This crucial match would not only decide his last opponent but also Luigi’s fate in this tournament. On the one hand, he was rooting for his little brother, but on the other hand, he had a championship title to defend. And he knew that Luigi would be a tough opponent, just as tough as Koopa. He watched as Luigi did a few practice swings with his racket and saw the look on his face. And he knew that he didn’t come this far just to be eliminated.

As Luigi stretched his muscles and smoothed out his green polo shirt, the feeling which had stirred inside of him since his match with Opal began to swell. It started at his heart and spread to his belly and then his limbs, warming them up for the three-set square-off ahead of him. He grabbed his racket and twirled it a few times before casting a glance at Mario, who gave him a thumbs-up. Luigi returned the gesture before squaring his shoulders and striding onto the court, all of the spectators cheering in response.

Then, Koopa emerged onto the court, his racket freshly polished and ready to go, receiving a lukewarm reception from the audience. His eyes fell on Luigi, and a smirk stretched onto his lips.

“Afternoon, Green ’Stache,” he said. “Any plans for the evening, after I advance to the finals?”

Luigi said nothing, letting his eyes do the talking.

“You’re in no mood to talk, huh? Well, good. I’m not here to talk to you,” laughed Koopa.

_I’ll wipe that smirk off your face,_ thought Luigi.

“I’ve got you for three sets,” Koopa went on. “Three sets of— _playtime_.”

Letting out another chuckle, Koopa tossed the ball into the air—and served.

Dashing forward, Luigi returned the serve with a corner shot, stopping Koopa’s laughter in his tracks. The plumber’s face was hard, and his eyes were flint as he watched the ball and the opponent’s racket. Sucking in his breath as he swung, letting it out as his racket connected with the ball. The singular feeling blazed within his body and his soul and thrummed in his mind. He sent Waluigi packing, and by God, he’d send this reptilian kidnapper packing, too! With each shot Luigi sent back, Koopa’s smirk faded into a look of apprehension and disbelief, the same look he wore when he faced off against Peach. Only this time—Luigi would win.

Not just for himself—but for Peach, for Phillip—and for all of the MK.

Before long, the score was at love-15. With a low growl, Koopa served the ball hard, and it would’ve collided with Luigi’s still-sore midsection had the man in green not returned the shot on time. His racket vibrated with the impact, the vibration traveling up his arm, and it felt good. Luigi adjusted his visor and returned the next few shots, feeling the emotions rippling in the pit of his stomach, hearing the crowd cheering for him and hearing his big bro shouting to him.

_Cheer now, because I’m defeating you next._

Quickly, Luigi forced the thought aside. He needed to focus on one tennis match at a time. His current opponent was favoring lob shots now, and those shots packed a high velocity, so he nimbly sprinted from corner to corner, returning with slice shots or topspin shots, getting in the occasional flat shot if he was lucky enough. Koopa would rear back and use his Fire Breath to propel the ball at his opponent, but Luigi would plant himself on the court and hit the flaming ball back. He’d feel the heat, but miraculously, the racket would sustain no damage. The sight of Luigi returning those fiery shots had the spectators whispering to each other, marveling at his nerves of steel.

Koopa laughed as one shot slipped past Luigi, tying the score, but his laughter was abruptly cut off when he spotted the look on his opponent’s face.

“Y’know—it’s just a game,” eyerolled Koopa. “C’mon—loosen up a little. Here, let me help.”

He served the ball, which Luigi crisply returned with a low-angle shot. That turtle was one to talk! He surely wasn’t acting like that when he was prancing around and gloating after knocking Peach and Phillip out of the competition! But in a way, he was right. Luigi needed to relax and focus if he wanted a chance at winning. So, he breathed, in and out, as he returned shot after shot, eventually gaining a foothold with his Squeaky Mallet.

“Send him home, Luigi!” cheered Daisy. “Send him home!”

But sending this reptile home wouldn’t be an easy task, as he easily caught up to Luigi. And with a fierce drop shot, Koopa took the lead, 40-30.

“Game point,” said the ref.

Luigi twirled his racket again and streamed out a breath as his opponent served. He returned the serve with an underhand swing, answering his foe’s next shots with swift and sharp slices. However, he couldn’t return a corner shot in time, and to everyone’s displeasure, the game went to Koopa.

“Change court,” said the ref.

“Forfeit now, and I’ll spare you the humiliation,” said Koopa.

_In your dreams,_ thought Luigi.

Koopa smirked and spread his hands. “Your funeral,” he said.

Drilling his stare into the reptile, Luigi wound up and served. What kind of person did Koopa think he was, anyway? No matter how bad the situation, he’d never forfeit. He’d stick with it right up till the end. This was only the first set, too. A lot could happen during the next two sets.

Luigi curved one shot, scoring a point. As everyone in the stands started cheering for him, he served the ball again, this time with a spirited lob shot. And that singular feeling suffused him and caressed him, a voice whispering to him and telling him that he was gonna win this. It might look bad now, but he was gonna win, face his bro in the finals, and—

But it was still too far ahead, and he still had two and a half sets to muddle through. Luigi corralled his thoughts and contained them to the present situation, scoring another point via his Squeaky Mallet. The score was now 30-love in his favor, but then Koopa decided to play more aggressively, making a big show of his power by using his Fire Breath and Shell Spin moves. And while Luigi barely managed to return one of the shots with his trusty ghost vacuum, his opponent soon caught up to him and then pulled ahead.

“Set point,” said the ref.

Luigi served. The audience directed hums of disapproval at Koopa as he sliced the ball back. It was almost as if he was deliberately trying to hit the man in green with the ball, as Waluigi had done before him. They thought that their longtime enemy had some standards to his name, but obviously, they were wrong.

Koopa let out a booming laugh once he scored the set point. “See? I _will_ win,” he boasted as he and Luigi got ready for the second set.

“Don’t let him get to you, Luigi!” shouted Opal. “That was only the first set! You still have two sets to pull ahead!”

_And I_ will _pull ahead_ , he vowed.

Koopa couldn’t help but taunt some more as he served the ball, but Luigi would make him eat his words. This time, the score wildly seesawed between the two competitors, Luigi’s swings gaining precision, his ears closed off to his opponent’s taunting. Mario leaned forward in his seat, and Daisy gripped Peach’s hand tightly. In the stands, someone chanted Luigi’s name, followed by another person, and then another and another until most of the Peach Dome was doing it. Not a lot of people remembered Luigi’s name, so this was a pleasant surprise.

Maybe because nearly three years ago—no, now wasn’t the time to go there.

The taunts died on Koopa’s lips as Luigi crisply sent his shots back at him. And then the man in green scored one point, and then another and then another, leaving that reptile in the dust at love-40.

“Game point.”

Luigi heard Koopa mutter something under his breath, but he paid him no mind. All he thought about was the tennis ball and his tennis racket. And the serve. And the return. And that crucial point.

“Game—Luigi.”

Halfway through. Over the hump.

Now, it was Luigi’s turn to serve, and he curved his shots or sent the ball into the corner. When a fiery ball was blasted his way, he simply used his vacuum to extinguish the flames and pull it back. Koopa scored a point, but Luigi scored one right after, followed by two more, and then the set point, and then—

“Game and set—Luigi.”

They were tied 1-1. Whoever won the final set would face Mario.

Mario found himself playing with the edges of his polo shirt. Peach laid her free hand on the small of his back.

His archnemesis or his lil’ bro. One or the other would remain between him and the coveted gold trophy.

“You’re gonna lose,” warned Koopa as he lobbed the ball with all his might.

But Luigi ran up and lobbed it right back.

“Go, Luigi, go!” Daisy exclaimed.

It was do or die, now or never. The two competitors gave this final set all they had left. Koopa belching fire at the tennis ball or spinning into it with his shell. Luigi whacking the ball with the Squeaky Mallet or vacuuming it back onto the court. Fire surging within the man in green, along with the other feeling he couldn’t quite place as he listened to the voices cheering around him.

_This is my chance, and I’m not giving it up. I’m_ not _throwing away my shot!_

Koopa scored once. Luigi scored twice. Koopa scored again, and by that time, so much focus was radiating off of Luigi. He had his eyes fixed now. Every muscle in his body was committed to beating this reptile. Dashing for the ball, swinging the racket, returning and later serving, breathing in and out as he gazed into his opponent’s face. He wasn’t smirking now, was he?

“Match point.”

Luigi tossed the tennis ball up high.

_For Peach._

And he sent it flying over the net.

_And for Phillip._

A low, speedy shot came back at Luigi, but he was ready for it, smoothly returning it. Again and again, the ball flew back and forth. The Peach Dome descended into silence. Mario could barely stand the suspense. Here it was—the moment of truth. Would he be facing off against his best companion? Or his worst enemy?

Releasing a breath in a resounding, deep grunt, Luigi answered that question—by intercepting Koopa’s corner shot and letting fly a truly strident flat shot. Koopa made a desperate dive for the ball, but his fate was already sealed. The ball whooshed past him and into the corner, ending the game and sending the reptile home.

“Game, set and match—Luigi!”

“ _What?!_ ” roared Koopa.

The moment was broken, and time resumed its normal pace. Everyone in the Peach Dome was on their feet, cheering.

“This is incredible!” exclaimed Toadsworth. “Luigi has advanced to the Grand Finals! The Super Mario Bros will be facing each other in the Grand Finals!”

“Yeah!” Luigi exclaimed. “I did it!”

Koopa simply snatched up his tennis racket and stormed off.

Daisy ran over and gave Luigi a victory smooch. “You sure showed him,” she said.

Luigi blushed. “Yeah—I did, didn’t I?”

“Once again, folks—brother will be pitted against brother in the final match of the Power Tennis Singles Tournament,” said Toadsworth. “One of our fine heroes will take home the trophy—but who will it be? Find out tomorrow—same time, same place. Be there!”

Satisfied after watching the Koopa King finally get knocked out of the bracket, the spectators filed out of the arena and headed home.

As they headed toward the locker room, Luigi’s eyes met Mario’s, a charged look passing between them—


	20. Grand Finals Overview

**Eliminated from Preliminaries:** Wario, Daisy, Donkey Kong, Yoshi, Peach, BJ, Cami, Waluigi

 **Eliminated from Quarterfinals:** Skye, Diddy Kong, Phillip, Opal

 **Eliminated from Semifinals:** Carolyn, Koopa

 **Grand Finals Schedule:** Mario vs Luigi, 9a.m. sharp

**Good luck to our last two competitors!**


	21. Grand Finals: Mario vs Luigi

The Mario Bros kept to themselves that night, only giving short and curt responses when they addressed each other. Both went to bed early, knowing that they needed all of their energy for tomorrow’s match. As for the other citizens of the MK, they found it difficult to get some shut-eye, the swirling excitement becoming prevalent. They took baths, brewed herbal tea and listened to calming music. Then, they counted sheep and did guided meditations. But it was barely any use. The next day couldn’t arrive soon enough.

And then—the next day dawned.

Mario and Luigi were up by 5:30a.m., scrambling eggs, frying bacon and flipping pancakes. They exchanged pleasantries as they ate, but the atmosphere around them had become charged. The impending match was slowly bringing out the competitive side of their relationship.

Spectators began arriving at the Peach Dome at around 6a.m. Luckily, the event organizers had anticipated this and set up some entertainment, from live DJs to food trucks and games for the little ones. The doors opened at 6:45, and they had to open multiple entrance to accommodate the larger-than-usual turnout.

It didn’t take long for the venue to be sold out. Thousands more decided to watch the action from TVs inside restaurants and pubs.

At around 7:30, the Mario Bros had checked into the locker room and changed into the appropriate attire—polo shirts, shorts, socks and tennis shoes. Not a word was spoken between them, but they didn’t need to say anything. After setting aside his shower materials and a change of clothes, Mario zipped up his duffel bag and headed for the tennis court, exchanging another intense look with his lil’ bro before doing so.

The shine around Luigi’s eye had faded to blue-green, and it hurt less, but he wasn’t concerned about the black eye. He wasn’t concerned about what Waluigi had done or about what Koopa had done. All he was concerned about was the match of his life. He adjusted his wristwatch and pressed his tennis racket to his lips.

“I’m done being second-best,” he whispered.

Meanwhile, Mario sat on a bench courtside, twirling his racket in his hands and psyching himself up.

“Sorry, Lil’ Bro,” he said softly, “but I have a title to defend.”

By 8:30, the Peach Dome was abuzz, anticipation charging the air. Luigi had also emerged onto the court and sat on a bench, closing his eyes and focusing. By now, a myriad of emotions had begun to stir within him, joining that feeling which had originated during the quarterfinals.

At 8:50, Toadsworth arrived to introduce the competitors.

“Good morning, everyone, and welcome to the Peach Dome,” he said. “The final match of the Power Tennis Singles Tournament is about to begin!”

Cheers.

“Introducing first—our always-dependable hero in red and the current Power Tennis Champion, Mario ‘Jumpman’ Mario!”

Mario took his place on the court, leaped into the air and landed in a strongman pose. “Here we go!” he exclaimed.

Everyone cheered louder, chanting Mario’s name.

“Today,” Toadsworth went on, “Super Mario will be defending his title against another dependable hero. Let’s all put our hands together for his younger brother—Luigi!”

“Oh, yeah! Let’s do this!” Luigi determinedly shouted as he stepped onto the court.

Not a lot of people cheered for him. Some of them exchanged confused looks and whispered to each other, as if they’d never seen Luigi before in their lives.

“The Super Mario Brothers, ladies and gentlemen!” said Toadsworth. “Facing off in a five-set match—only one Mario Bro will walk away with the trophy. But which one?”

The spectators leaned forward in suspense.

Blue eyes met blue eyes as the Bros advanced to center court and shook hands.

Standing there, tennis racket heavy in his hand, waiting for the match to begin, Luigi resolved to keep his swirling emotions in check. But the other side of his relationship with Mario had begun to emerge, the side which involved their gross fame inequality. Everybody knew who Mario was, but when it came to Luigi—it was like he was never there. He began to think that the spectators wanted Mario to win, because he was so heroic and so good at everything and—

_I’m good at sports, too! I’m as good a fighter as my bro! I’m as good a protector as my bro! I can be a hero, too!_

The emotions bubbled and threatened to spill over, but Luigi was able to command and control them, allowing them to simmer. Setting down his racket, the man in green peeled off his green polo shirt and tossed it aside, to several _ooohs_ from the audience. Daisy nodded in approval, and both Skye and Opal couldn’t resist a look.

This was shaping up to be an interesting match. Because whenever Luigi took off his shirt—he meant business.

Luigi picked his racket back up and studied his bro, waiting, waiting.

And Mario’s eyes scanned his younger brother as he bounced the ball against the court, once, twice, thrice. Then, he held his racket under the ball, awaiting the ref’s command to start the match.

_Nothing personal, Lil’ Bro. But I gotta win this. You_ do _understand, right? This title is very important to me._

Again, they locked eyes, Luigi’s flashing.

_Sorry, Bro. It’s_ my _turn to have a chance for once._ You _always get all of the fame. All of the credit. Even though I put in just as much effort as you. All I ask is that the Toads at least acknowledge the times I have your back._

Luigi held his racket with both hands, his muscles tensed, breathing evenly.

_I saved you in that mansion nearly three years ago. The MK would’ve lost their main hero if it weren’t for me. And I didn’t advance this far just to wind up with the second prize. I hope you’re ready, Bro—because I’m gonna give you my all._

The ref glanced from one Mario Bro to another. Those two looked like they wanted to tear each other apart.

“Okay, gentlemen,” said the ref. “Let’s keep this friendly, all right?”

The Bros nodded, still staring intensely at each other.

_Give it your best, Bro_ , thought Mario, _but I gotta show these Toads that I’m still number one._

It was now 9a.m.

Time for the final match to begin.

**…**

Calm washed over Luigi as the ref gave the fateful signal. The miasma of emotions now lingered just below the surface. He didn’t feel angry, frustrated, flustered or resentful—he didn’t even feel worried that this would all be for naught. All he felt was—sudden hyperawareness. Paying attention to the smallest details, because the smallest details could be the most important.

His breaths filling his lungs.

His bro tossing the ball into the air.

The fingers of his left hand closing around the racket.

The tennis ball rising toward the sky and spinning in space.

The ball reaching its apex.

Mario bringing down his racket on the ball, launching over the net. Toward Luigi.

Luigi could see all of the ball’s stitches and textures as it raced toward him. The muscles around his abs tightened. He released a breath. His body pivoted. His left arm swung. His racket met the ball.

He heard the audience murmur around him as the ball thundered back over the net. He heard and saw Mario’s racket connect with the ball again, volleying it back toward him. He felt his muscles snap to attention as his racket snapped toward the ball. And he felt the shockwave thrum down his arm as the racket cleanly hit the ball, slicing it back in Mario’s direction.

On and on it went. Luigi’s attention was riveted on nowhere else except for the soaring, spinning ball, his own racket, his brother’s racket and his breathing. Everything else was just background noise that he’d return to later. He inhaled as the ball came toward him and exhaled as he swung his racket to connect. Mostly, he held the racket in his left hand, keeping his other hand behind his back. His body continued to spin and pivot as he returned each shot, jumping acrobatically toward the ball whenever he saw it bounce off the court floor. He listened to his bro’s low grunts and huffs as he kept heaving the ball across the court and saw the fierce expression on his face. An expression similar to the one he was currently wearing.

But while Mario was grunting and huffing, Luigi released his breaths in low, quiet streams as he swung his racket toward the tennis ball again and again and again.

Luigi’s Squeaky Mallet was now in his hand, and he pulled back and swung, throwing his whole body into the swing. The Mallet hit the ball full-force, sending it up and over the net. He saw Mario race toward the ball. And he saw him _miss._

He had scored!

However, he’d celebrate later. Mario wound up and served the ball again. And Luigi went back to his state of calm hyperawareness, his reflexes perfectly polished, his eyes following the ball and his strong left arm sending the racket forward to meet it.

And then Mario scored.

Drat.

Luigi could swear he heard Mario laugh softly after he scored. He could swear he heard the audience give a relieved sigh. But then he re-focused, keeping those feelings simmering just under his skin, watching Mario’s every move. Just as Mario was keeping his eyes out for _his_ every move.

The score was 15-15. Heat pooled along every pore in Luigi’s skin as Mario served. That hyperawareness steadily increased as the game went on. The tennis ball rotating in thin air during its flight. The weight of the tennis racket in Luigi’s hand. The court beneath his tennis shoes. Even the visor on his head. And of course, the breath going in and out of his lungs, the satisfying sensation of racket encountering ball, and all of his muscles flexing, contracting and relaxing as he mixed slice shots with topspin shots, topspin shots with flat shots and flat shots with drop shots and lob shots.

One brother scored. And then the other. Then one and then the other until the ref announced that the next point would be the game point. Luigi’s face was hot, and his breath was a little brisk. His eyes met Mario’s, and he was also breathing heavily. As far as he was concerned, that was for the best.

Mario sent the ball rocketing towards him, and Luigi sent it rocketing back. And all the latter knew was just sensation and breathing and determination until—

“Game—Mario.”

D—mit. God—mit.

He had four-and-a-half sets to catch up with him, but still.

“Change court.”

Luigi felt the ball’s texture in his hand before he threw it skyward and crashed his racket onto it. The ball nearly zipped past Mario, who had to use his Spin Jump to return the serve. With a smooth pivot, Luigi curved the ball back, relying on trick shots as well as strength and power. The warmth on his skin took on a sticky quality, and a film of sweat began materializing on his face. His breath came out sharp and fast each time he hit the ball. His breaths deepened each time he served the ball. For each point he scored, Mario would score one right after. Both were all-around characters, more than matching each other in skill. And because of this, their match would be anything but boring.

“Set point.”

The score stood at 40-30 in Mario’s favor. Licking his lips, Luigi tossed the ball up high and served. Mario sliced it toward the corner of the net, and Luigi returned with a drop shot. They rallied for a few more minutes, and then Mario pulled out his Iron Hammer and whacked the ball with all his strength, sending it past Luigi.

“Game and set—Mario.”

The ref called a water break. Both competitors retreated to their benches and quenched their thirst with some Gatorade.

_Don’t relax yet, Bro,_ thought Luigi. _We still have four sets._

During the next three sets, the man in green focused all of his energy on his swings, his serves and the tennis ball. When he needed a little more force behind his swings, he pulled out his Squeaky Mallet. When he couldn’t quite catch a ball on time, he vacuumed it back to set up a return shot. He could feel his emotions threatening to flare out of control, but he kept it simmering, brewing and bubbling just beneath the surface of his skin, breathing in and out and in and out. His mouth was rounded in an “o” shape, intense focus shone in his eyes, and everyone could see that he was _not_ playing around.

Neither was Mario.

Both Bros played intensely and aggressively, much to the ref’s alarm. A few times, he had to stop the match and remind them that it was just a friendly contest. But the ref simply didn’t understand what was going on between the Bros—how much that trophy meant to both of them. For Mario, it would mean another hard-earned tournament win under his belt. And for Luigi, it would mean recognition—blessed acknowledgment, at long last.

No water breaks in the world could cool the fire blazing within Luigi.

The sun was now overhead. High noon. Mario and Luigi were tied at two sets each. The decisive final set loomed ahead. Anything could happen. But only one would win.

Briefly, Luigi’s gaze swept over the spectators. _They’ve underestimated me_ , he thought. _They are very, very, VERY wrong about me. I can hold my own, and if I can hold my own, then I can win._

The sound of the ball bouncing on the court brought his attention back to his bro. Flushed and sweaty, his hair plastered against his forehead, his breathing labored, Mario stared hard at his lil’ bro. _I know you can win without a doubt in my mind, baby bro. But I didn’t come this far just to falter at the last minute._

Luigi met his bro’s stare. _Neither did I._

They held the charged gaze for a few more seconds. And in a low voice, Mario spoke.

“Ready?” he asked.

Face set, Luigi replied, also in a low voice, “Let’s-a go.”

Again—it wasn’t anger or frustration or a plethora of other emotions the younger bro felt. Just—a heightened sense of things. The audience murmuring among themselves. The lingering taste of Gatorade on his tongue. The handle of his racket, sweaty beneath his fingers. His heart tapping out a brisk rhythm in his chest. The sun hanging midway in the blue sky. His breath, in synchrony with his bro’s, inhaling and exhaling. Every last drop of sweat sliding down his face, neck, chest, torso and back. A sudden summer breeze coming in, ghosting across his hot skin, a welcome cool. He saw, he heard, he felt, he watched—and he waited.

Time stopped—and then started again.

A deep inhale. The twitch of a muscle. The ball leaving Mario’s hand and sailing into the noon sky. The nerves and muscles within Luigi’s body snapping to attention as the racket cracked the ball toward him. Sweat droplets leaping off of his pivoting body, breath streaming out of his rounded mouth, the racket cleanly hitting the ball and returning the serve.

And the final set began.

The Peach Dome now bore witness to one of the most intense, charged and heated final sets in the MK’s rich history. The two brothers were hot, sweaty, cross and fired up. No taunts or quips were exchanged between them—just cold, undiluted focus and fierce corner shots. While Mario aggressively slammed shots over the net, Luigi played with almost tactical precision, curving as many shots as he could, maintaining command of his roiling emotions.

Luigi realized just how much he wanted to win—just how much he wanted to defeat his big bro in front of Peach, Daisy, Toadsworth, God and everyone. He loved his brother very much, and he’d die for him, but at the same time, he felt stuck in his shadow, with no way out. Even if he did something noteworthy, it would be forgotten soon enough. But for some reason, everyone remembered Mario and all he’d done, and it was _just so unfair_! The man in green corralled his angst, ire and frustration and focused it on his succeeding swings. Mario scored a point, but then Luigi scored two, one by using his Power Shot. And then Mario used his Spin Jump to score yet another point and bring the score back to a tie. The summer breeze picked up slightly, cascading down Luigi’s upper body and back and ruffling his hair. He breathed in the refreshing air through his nostrils and swung his racket, catching the ball as it arced toward him.

And then Luigi scored the game point, the duo briefly staring each other down as they switched sides on the court.

The last half of the last set was just like the first—the two brothers muscling for the upper hand, the ball practically bounding back and forth between them. Mario’s polo shirt cleaved to his upper body, and Luigi’s skin was sparkling in the sunlight. Matching determined expressions were on their faces, neither of them willing to cave in at this crucial point in the match.

“Championship point.”

Tension swirled in the air as the Bros talked to each other with their eyes. The score was currently in Luigi’s favor, 40-30. This was do or die. Now or never.

Luigi drew in a breath as he flung the tennis ball into the air, swinging the racket in time with his exhale. The ball seemed to hurtle itself over the net toward Mario, who crisply returned the serve. And the spectators fell silent, hanging onto every second of the action, the Bros throwing everything they had left into the match. Slice shots, topspin shots, drop shots, flat shots, smash shots, lob shots, Power Shots—they weren’t holding back now. Everything rested on this one remaining point. Either one brother would remain the Power Tennis champion, or the title would pass to the other brother.

Throwing his full strength into his swing, Mario sent a fast curve ball at Luigi. But the man in green simply narrowed his eyes, steadied his breathing, wrenched his body erect, pivoted and swung.

_It’s_ my _time to shine!_

With a powerful lob shot, Luigi sent the ball sizzling over the net. Mario gasped, his body instinctively jerking out of the way. He tried to Spin Jump toward the ball, but he was microseconds too late. The ball was already at the corner of the net.

And the match was decided.

“Game, set and match—Luigi!”

Stunned silence.

Then—

The Peach Dome burst into cheers, every single attendee on their feet.

“Oh, my God! I don’t believe it!” exclaimed Toadsworth. “Luigi won! Luigi Mario is the new Power Tennis Champion!”

Allowing everything else to fade back in, Luigi stared in awe at the cheering crowd. He glanced at the scoreboard, and it took a few seconds for it to sink in that he’d won. He’d f—ing _done_ it. He’d bested his big bro and earned the gold trophy. And for once—the Toads were cheering for him.

Slowly but surely, the fire within Luigi began to cool, and his emotions settled down to a manageable level.

“Hey!” shouted an audience member. “That’s the ghost hunter! That’s the one who singlehandedly defeated an enemy worse than Koopa! Let’s give him a hand!”

Happiness swelled inside Luigi as the cheers started afresh. _They remembered_ , he thought. _They remembered!_

Luigi raised his arms in victory as the spectators began chanting his name. Not some moniker like “Green Mario” or “Mario’s little brother”. But his actual name.

A broad smile replaced the stony intensity on Luigi’s face.

“Yeah! Oh, yeah! Luigi number one!”

Meanwhile, Mario just stood there, disbelieved, his tennis racket dropping from his slackened grip.

_I—I—I was so close!_

He tried his best to be happy for Luigi, but his mind wouldn’t listen to him, thinking treacherous thoughts.

_I was so close…_


	22. Final Results

**Eliminated from Preliminaries:** Wario, Daisy, Donkey Kon, Yoshi, Peach, BJ, Cami, Waluigi

 **Eliminated from Quarterfinals:** Skye, Diddy Kong, Phillip, Opal

 **3 rd Place: **Carolyn

 **2 nd Place:** Mario

 **2004 Power Tennis Singles Champion:** Luigi

**Congratulations!**


	23. Envy is Red

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The tournament is officially over, and now the drama begins...

The net was removed from the tennis court, and in its place was a small, circular stage. Above this stage hung a sea-blue banner which read, “POWER TENNIS TOURNAMENT, 2004”. A mic stood in the center of the stage, and Toadsworth presently walked up to the mic to address the audience.

“Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls,” Toadsworth began. “The award ceremony for the Power Tennis Singles Tournament is about to begin. But first, as the tournament’s co-coordinator, I would like to introduce our main coordinator—our very own Toadstool Princess—Peach!”

The spectators rose to their feet and applauded as Peach glided onto the stage, still in her short-sleeved tennis dress.

“Thank you,” said Peach. “That was some fantastic tennis playing out there, wasn’t it?”

Cheers of assent.

“These tennis tournaments are just another way for our constituents to come together, make new friends and escape the realities of their day-to-day lives,” said Peach. “The trophy at the end is only part of the deal. However, now is the moment to acknowledge the victor’s hard work, dedication and determination in getting to this point. And to help me present the trophy to this year’s victor is my good friend—Princess Daisy of Sarasaland!”

With a peal of laughter, Daisy skated onto the stage, clad in her orange tank top and dark orange short shorts. When she reached the mike, she hopped off her skates and addressed the crowd.

“Hello, everybody!” she exclaimed.

Cheers all around.

“Nothing gets my blood pumping like a good tennis tournament,” said Daisy, “but nothing causes my heart to soar like presenting a special trophy to a special someone. This year’s victor truly deserves his trophy, because not only did he persevere, but he also defied expectations, as well as two unsportsmanlike opponents, to reach this shining moment.”

Two Toads wheeled the shiny, golden trophy onto the stage, which Daisy carefully hefted in her arms before striding back to the mic. “So if you please, ladies and gentlemen, put your hands together and give it up for your 2004 Power Tennis Singles Champion—Luigi Mario!”

Everyone cheered enthusiastically as Luigi happily bounded onto the stage, once again wearing his polo shirt. He shook hands with Toadsworth and Peach before giving Daisy a sweet kiss.

“Good job, sweetie,” said Daisy as she presented Luigi with the trophy.

“Thanks, Daisy,” Luigi softly replied.

Daisy then kissed him on the cheek, making him blush.

Luigi then stepped up to the mic, raising his trophy aloft as everyone cheered. Not for Mario, but for him. The man in green was now blushing for a different reason—sheer happiness. It took a lot of sweat, a couple of bruises and even a black eye, but he’d done it. He’d taken the singles bracket of the Power Tennis tournament by storm. He had to pinch himself to make sure he wasn’t dreaming.

“Oh, yeah!” he shouted. “Luigi time!”

More applause.

“I’d like to start by saying how _honored_ I am to accept this trophy after many years of hoping and practicing,” said Luigi. “The road to victory wasn’t easy, but I had a lot of people helping me through. First of all, there’s my Flower Princess, Daisy, who powered me from start to finish with her love and support. _Grazie mille_ , Princess.”

Daisy blew him a kiss. “You’re welcome, L,” she said.

“Second, I’d like to thank Waluigi, Opal and Koopa for playing their best and their hardest, even though Opal was the only one who took her loss in stride. I really enjoyed playing with you, and I hope I do so again. I’d also like to thank Peach and Toadsworth for hosting these wonderful tournaments and giving me and my friends the chance to show our skills. And last but not least, I’d like to thank Mario, my big bro, for encouraging me whenever the going gets tough and helping me realize that I’m better than I think I am. He also played an awesome game and gave me one Inferno of a challenge, making our final match an unforgettable one. I love you, Mario. Always have, always will.”

“D’awww…” said the audience.

“And a special thanks to everyone in the stands who cheered me on and gave me the energy to keep going,” Luigi concluded. “Wow—this is arguably one of the best days of my life! Thank you! Thank you! Thank you so much!”

He covered his mouth to keep from bursting into tears. Once he calmed down, he raised the trophy aloft a second time, his face aching from smiling so much. Several photographers arrived on the scene, taking pictures of Luigi posing with his hard-earned trophy. After a few solo photos, he had a few pictures taken with Peach and Toadsworth, followed by a few pictures with Daisy. Once the photographers were finished, Luigi took a black Sharpie and autographed the lens of one of the cameras broadcasting the action to TVs around the MK.

Mario stood nearby, watching the ceremony, applauding with everyone else. However, an unpleasant feeling welled at the back of his throat, those treacherous thoughts churning in his mind.

_God—mit! Why did I lose my championship title—to_ him _, of all people?! Who brought this kingdom back from the brink? Me, that’s who! Who’s Player One in this story? Me!_ I’m-a _number one!_

The man in red tried his hardest to be a good sport, but the ugly thoughts just kept on coming. Despite his best efforts, he felt angry, frustrated and upset. More specifically, he was fuming. _Why_ was he fuming? He should be happy for his little brother! It was about time he had his share of the spotlight!

However, losing his title still stung—especially since he lost it to his own brother.

Meanwhile, Luigi laughed softly, twirling and leaping with his trophy and soaking in the audience’s cheers. He was so happy that he could burst. It felt so good to hear everyone chanting his own, God-given name. They no longer saw him as just “Mario’s little brother” or “that green guy”. At long glorious last, they saw him as—Luigi.

“Yes!” Luigi cheered emphatically, flashing a peace sign.

“We love you, Luigi!” someone shouted.

Luigi blew a kiss toward the stands. “Same here,” he said.

The cheers crescendoed as Luigi brought his trophy to his lips.

Everything was perfect.

**…**

Then—

“Yeah! Yay! Wah-hoo!”

Luigi turned as Mario walked onto the stage, applauding. But by the look on his face, Luigi could tell that his big bro’s heart wasn’t quite into it.

“Whoo-hoo! Hey, Luigi!” said Mario, and something about the tone of his voice just seemed _wrong_.

His words sounded _forced_ and _passive-aggressive_.

Mario now joined his brother on the stage, giving him a rough slap on the back. “Nice job!” he said, and it was here that the red flags _really_ started going up. “Way to go! You’re number one! Man, I am so _happy_ for you!” He “playfully” ruffled Luigi’s hair, and at that point, the man in green could keep silent no longer.

But before Luigi could give his bro a piece of his mind—

He felt it—

Sudden, sharp pain and pressure coursing through his right foot. Almost as if—someone was— _stepping on it_ —

Oh, no.

No, no—

Mario couldn’t be—

He _couldn’t_ be doing what Luigi thought he was doing.

Mario was many things, but a sore loser wasn’t one of them.

Right?

_Right?!_

The pressure and pain increased, and it was as if his foot was being ground into the floor.

So, Luigi glanced down, and—

There was the evidence, clear as day.

There was Mario’s foot, directly on top of Luigi’s. Stepping on it and grinding it into the earth.

Oh.

Oh.

Oh—

Luigi snapped his head up, giving Mario a look of unadulterated disbelief as the latter continued to press his shoe against the former’s foot. All of the joy he’d felt at his victory was dissipating fast. Mario just _had_ to soil it, didn’t he?

His older brother, the very person he’d looked up to since he was a boy, who loved him _so much_ and who cared _so much_ about him, was currently acting salty over losing the championship title to him, expressing his displeasure by grinding his shoe into Luigi’s foot.

Wow.

Oh, wow.

Oh, wow.

Oh—wow—

Gradually, the cheers died down as the spectators saw what Mario was doing. Frankly, they couldn’t believe their eyes.

Daisy was beside herself. Peach didn’t know what to think. Skye and her children were pale and ashen. Opal had a hand pressed over her mouth.

A leaden silence had fallen over the Peach Dome.

And when Mario saw the disbelieved and devastated expression on his younger brother’s face—he _laughed_.


	24. A Brother's Resolution

The door to Mario’s house blew open, a tennis racket flying across the room, followed by a duffel bag.

“What in the Inferno was that?!” Mario demanded of himself as he stormed into his home, angry at himself for what he’d done. “J—s C—st! _Cazzo! Merda…_ ”

He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “God—mit, Mario—you ruined your brother’s special moment! You made yourself look like a bully and a bad sport in front of all those God—m people!”

The man in red sank onto his couch, the image of his baby bro’s face burning into his mind, giving him a look of disbelief and hurt.

“Well—that’s what happens when you spend the past nineteen years defending a kingdom,” he grumbled. “You let it get to your head, and stuff like this happens! F—ing BS…” He choked back a sob. “You’re a f—ing egotistical little man!” His head fell into his hands.

“And what makes you think you’re so f—ing special anyway?!” Mario hotly went on. “What, because you grab a giant turtle by the tail and throw him into lava or whatever?! ‘Oh, look at me! I’m a little man from Brooklyn who fights reptiles and rescues princesses twice a week! I’m a f—ing celebrity, I’m f—ing invincible and everyone else can go [bleep] themselves!’ You surely weren’t invincible when you were getting jumped by a bunch of f—ing Boos in a f—ing haunted forest!”

He sighed. “Maybe you should stop eating all of that cake—it’s turning your brain to mush and making you forget about the more important things in life—like family. Oh, Mario—what have you done? That was your brother’s moment, and you brought it crashing down around him! What were you trying to prove—that you’ll always be the better Mario Bro?!” Tears worried at his eyes. “I acted like I hate my bro, and I _don’t_ hate my bro! I love him to death!”

The man in red got up from the couch and started pacing the den. “You were an insensitive, jealous jerk out there, and not only did you sour your brother’s victory, you also _laughed in his face about it_! You thought it was f—ing funny! Well, _he_ certainly wasn’t laughing, was he? Was he?!”

Luigi had just stood there, rubbing the back of his head, the hurt, disbelief and confusion warring in his eyes as Mario stepped on his foot, laughing. He _definitely_ hadn’t found it funny—and neither had the audience.

“‘Ha-ha-ha, Lil’ Bro—you may have won the tournament, but I’m still the better-known hero, so think about that the next time you beat me at something!’ Way to go, Mario—way to rub _that_ in his face! I bet his self-confidence and self-esteem will be completely shot to Hell after this—[bleep] it!

“Nearly three f—ing years ago, your little brother saved your [bleep]! He’s having nightmares because of it; he’s seeing a shrink because of it! And you thank him by treating him like [bleep]! Are you _kidding_ me?! WTF?!”

Again, Mario snatched at his hair, closer than ever to tears. “Okay, that’s it! That’s f—ing it! That’s f—ing it! You stop taking your baby bro for granted right now! All right?! You gotta make a promise to yourself, okay? Make a promise to yourself that you’re gonna stop taking your brother for granted!

“Take a little bit of time out of every day to say, ‘ _Grazie_ , Luigi’, or ‘ _Ti amo_ , Luigi’, or better yet, ‘ _Ciao, Luigi, come stai_?’ Is that too much to ask?!”

Mario glared at his reflection in the mirror. “You’re gonna give Luigi some time to calm down,” he said in a low voice, “and then you’re gonna head over there, you’re gonna apologize, and you’re gonna man up and be the big brother he deserves. You got that?”

He narrowed his eyes at his reflection. “Now, you listen to me,” he hissed. “If you make your little brother feel only _slightly_ underappreciated, or not appreciated at all, so help me God, I will [bleep] you like a pig! I [bleep] you not!” Pointing his finger to drive home his point, he spat, “It’s time to get your f—ing priorities straight!”

Making things right with Luigi would be a difficult task. But it would be done. 


	25. Please Forgive Me

After the little stunt Mario pulled, the rest of the early afternoon was a blur to Luigi.

He only remembered that he’d left the Peach Dome as quickly as possible, so he wouldn’t do something he’d regret later.

When he got home, he’d planned to proudly display his trophy in his living room, a reminder of a hard-earned victory and of how the populace had cheered for and admired him for one sweet moment. Then, he’d planned to celebrate by dining at his favorite restaurant. But, Mario wouldn’t have any of that, now would he?

The golden trophy, in Luigi’s eyes, had lost its luster. The proud blaze of victory had been snuffed out. He was now holding a heavy piece of metal, that was all. So, after arriving home, the man in green unceremoniously chucked it into his closet.

SLAM!

Abruptly, Luigi pounded both fists onto his dining room table, his breath coming fast. Hurt and disbelief still coursed through his veins, and with it came blazing anger and betrayal. How could he do that? How could Mario trample on his moment?! He must’ve _known_ how it would make him feel! Splaying his hands flat on the table, Luigi sought to compose himself and regain control of his breathing. He was hot all over, and the rage threatened to explode. So, he did what he’d normally do in this situation.

He retreated to his room, retrieved his secret diary and spilled everything onto its pages. By the time he was finished, blood was beating in his ears, in time with his hammering heart. The waves of hurt and anger began to crest, and he needed to do _something_ to get it out of his system. Otherwise, he’d march right over to Mario’s place and—

While he was furious with his big bro, he didn’t really want to hurt him.

Luckily, Luigi had many outlets for his anger and frustration.

Breathing deeply, Luigi slid off his shoes, stripped off his overalls and shirt and changed into a pair of navy blue workout pants and nothing else. He threw open his curtains, crossed the room to his stereo and inserted a CD he chose at random. Then, he turned up the volume to as loud as he could bear and pressed “play”.

Eurodance and 90s party music began pounding into the room, and Luigi began to dance. Oh, _how_ he danced! He danced angrily and frenetically, letting loose the explosive feelings he’d kept bottled up inside. Frustration, resentment, ire—it all started blasting out of him as he danced, keeping up with the music’s fast tempo. His body began to writhe and whirl and undulate as he rolled his shoulders and wound his hips, his torso shimmying and swishing. His eyes were closed, and he enjoyed the sensation. It didn’t take long for the heat to blossom across his skin, nor did it take long for him to break a sweat, starting as a thin film across his face and upper body. For the rest of the afternoon, he just danced and danced and _danced_ —he danced until the sweat was flying off his body in all directions and splattering onto the walls, until his throat was nearly parched, until his breath was nearly gone—at which point he danced some more until he could no longer ignore his lungs and his muscles pleading with him to take a break.

By then, it was sunset. Breathlessly, Luigi went to his kitchen and helped himself to some ICE Sparkling Water. He felt a little better, but the anger still burned, and his heart ached with betrayal. Questions spun in his mind. Why did Mario act up like that? Why was he such a bad sport earlier that afternoon? Why did he step on Luigi’s foot? Why did he spoil everything? Why, why, why, why, _why_?!

His fists clenched, the urge to whale the snot out of Mario welling back up. Quickly, he steamrolled back to his room, put in another CD of Eurodance hits and resumed his dancing. The setting sun poured in through the window, casting deep orange rays on his sweat-slick skin, making it come aglow. He closed his eyes and let everything shoot back to the surface, his body overtaken by the driving rhythm. The man in green danced throughout the evening and far into the night—danced until his emotions finally allayed, or at least simmered back down to a manageable level.

Luigi turned off his music and jumped into a cool shower before fixing himself some dinner and pouring himself a glass of sweet wine. He ate his meal while listening to some downtempo music, finding some semblance of calm returning to him with every bite. Getting upset wouldn’t help anything—on the contrary, it would only make things worse. If Mario called him or visited him later tonight or tomorrow, then the least he could do was hear him out, rather than lashing out and throwing punches.

_It hurts so bad—why would he do that? I thought he cared about me…_

He breathed, softly, deeply and slowly, before finishing his dinner. Then, he pulled on his pajama bottoms and climbed into bed.

He’d sleep on it.

Maybe he’d be in a calmer mood tomorrow.

**…**

Luigi hadn’t calmed down one bit when he woke up.

His sleep had been fitful, the incident yesterday afternoon playing on loop in his dreams. Those raw feelings had knotted themselves in his chest and belly, and the back of his throat ached. Another cool shower temporarily tamed the fire inside him, and a hearty breakfast of cheesy scrambled eggs and chocolate chip pancakes tapered off the pain—but not for long.

_Why, Mario, why? I thought you were better than that…_

He tended to his toilette, pulled on a pair of leggings and a muscle shirt and loaded a duffel bag with some towels, a change of clothes and a few bottles of Gatorade. Then, he headed off to the gym to work off his aggression.

Nobody acknowledged him when he entered the gym. There were no mentions of his victory yesterday, no queries about his well-being after what Mario did. Not even a single “Congratulations”. Even the employees greeting him flubbed his name. It was as if his awesome crowning moment as the new Power Tennis Champion never even took place.

It was back to the status quo. Back to being in Mario’s shadow.

Luigi wanted to scream at them. He wanted to break something. He wanted to start a fight.

But he didn’t. He knew it would only exacerbate the situation.

After checking in at the front desk, Luigi headed to the men’s locker room and got his stuff situated. A bottle of Gatorade in each hand and his iPod tucked into the pocket of his leggings, Luigi walked into the cardio area, one of his favorite areas in the gym. Lined up in front of the gym’s floor-to-ceiling windows was a row of spin bikes, one of his go-to cardio machines. He randomly picked a spin bike, disinfected it with a wet wipe and carefully slid on. After selecting a pre-programmed workout, he discarded his muscle shirt, picked a workout-appropriate playlist on his iPod, plugged in his earbuds, grabbed the bike’s handlebars and began to pedal.

His eyes stared out the window and saw nothing. The resistance under his feet gradually increased, as did his pedaling pace. This was why he loved the spin bike. After a stressful day, he could just hop on the bike, play his music and engage all of his muscles without having to think. And that’s what he did now, focusing those raw feelings inward and translating them into power. Hot sweat slid slowly down him, leaving thin trails on his shoulders, arms, upper body and back. It threaded along his brows and eyelashes and hovered near his upper lip. He closed his eyes, more sweat droplets spilling down his eyelids. His hands gripped the handlebars tightly, and he pedaled faster and faster and faster still, his body oscillating to and fro from the motions. Breaths whistled sharply from his mouth, breaths which settled into a cadence. He was hot and sweaty and wired and letting out as many of those raw feelings as he could before they drove him to destruction.

For forty-five minutes, he didn’t have to think. Then, after a brief rest, Luigi cranked up the resistance level to the highest he could tolerate and started again. He kept going and going and going, the sweat showering off of him, until one employee lightly tapped him on the shoulder and insisted that he take a break.

After wiping down the bike, Luigi plunked himself onto a bench, finished one bottle of Gatorade and then started on the other.

“Hey,” said the gym employee. “You okay?”

Still quite winded, Luigi nodded.

“I, uh—I gave Mario a call,” the employee said softly. “Let him know you were okay.”

Luigi nodded again. As upset as he was with Mario, he didn’t want the guy to worry about him.

The man in green rested for a full hour before hopping onto one of the treadmills. For at least two hours, his arms and legs pumped as he relentlessly increased the treadmill’s speed and incline in increments. He only stopped when the latter reached the highest setting, and after that, he continued for another hour or so, a fierce expression on his face as his breaths whooshed from his mouth. Once again, his thoughts settled into a comfortable white noise, the urge to do something violent finally dwindling.

When he was ready, Luigi gradually slowed the treadmill’s speed and reduced the incline, bringing his heart rate back down to normal. Ten minutes later, he stopped the machine entirely and hopped off. His leggings were neatly soaked with perspiration, and more sweat seeped into his mouth and leaked from his body in rivulets. He used his muscle shirt to wipe off his face and neck before sliding the garment back over his head and emptying his remaining bottle of Gatorade.

Back in the locker room, he peeled off his sweaty clothes, took a quick but refreshing shower and changed into his normal getup. The worst of his anger and hurt had been flushed from his system, but he was still pretty wound up. He needed to get some more food in his stomach, and pronto. Only then would he be able to think more clearly, examine the situation with fresh eyes and contemplate his next move.

**…**

After dropping off his duffel bag at home, Luigi took the light-rail to one of his favorite restaurants, where a host greeted him upon arrival.

“Table for one, please,” said the man in green.

The host smiled. “Right this way, Luigi,” he said, leading the plumber to a table by the window.

“This spot is perfect,” said Luigi. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” said the host, “and congratulations on your win yesterday. God knows you’ve earned it.”

A small smile tweaked at Luigi’s mouth. “Thanks.”

“Your welcome. The servers, a few of the cooks and I watched the whole thing on TV,” said the host. “You played a good game out there. A good game.”

Luigi’s heart swelled as the host gave him a menu to peruse over. _They didn’t forget after all_ , he thought.

“Attention everyone—we have a very special guest here this afternoon,” said the host, addressing the entire restaurant. “Here’s our 2004 Power Tennis Singles Champion!”

“Oh, my God—is that Luigi?!” someone asked.

“You’d better believe it,” the host said genially.

Patrons and employees alike stood up and applauded the man in green.

“Congrats on your win!”

“Way to go, L!”

“All right, Luigi! You’re the man!”

A feeling of vindication washed over Luigi as his eyes swept over the scene.

Shortly after the restaurant settled back down, a server walked over to Luigi’s table with a tall glass of Fanta Orange, no ice. “Here you go, sir,” she said.

Luigi frowned lightly. “How did you know…?”

“We got a call earlier this morning,” the server explained. “He said that he’d figured you’d swing by.”

Luigi quirked an eyebrow. “Mario?” he asked.

The server nodded. “Rumor has it that he contacted every last one of your favorite restaurants,” she went on. “Told them to put an order in for your usual the second they saw you arrive, and to charge it to his card. Speaking of which—we’ll have the Super Stuffed 3-Cheese Quesadilla out for you in a moment.”

“Wow. Thanks,” said Luigi.

_Mario, Mario, Mario_ , he thought as the server left. _He really knows how to soften me up._

Sure enough, the server returned hardly ten minutes later with his food, nice and piping hot.

“Looks good,” said Luigi.

“Mario’s holding a press conference soon,” said the server. “Would you like us to change the channel?”

“Leave it,” Luigi replied. “I’m willing to listen to what he has to say.”

The server smiled. “Enjoy,” she said before leaving.

As Luigi chowed down, another server approached him.

“Hey,” she said quietly. “Some of us also saw what happened afterward. Are you—are you doing okay?”

“I’m—I’m holding up,” Luigi replied. “Thank you.”

“If he’s calling up your favorite restaurants and offering to pay for your meal, then he must _really_ want to make things right,” offered the server.

“I know,” said Luigi. “It’s not enough, but it’s a good start.”

“For what it’s worth, we really hope you work this out,” the server said quietly.

“Me, too.”

The server left, and Luigi continued enjoying his meal.

Shortly thereafter, the door opened, and Skye walked in, her three kids close by. Opal was right behind her.

“Oh, my God! Luigi!” Opal exclaimed, walking fairly fast to his table.

“Hey, Opal,” said Luigi.

Skye and her brood joined Opal. “Mind if we sit here for a bit?” she asked.

“Sure.”

Opal sat next to Luigi, and Skye and her kids sat across from him.

“We’re really sorry about what happened, L,” Carolyn said softly. “You deserved better than that.”

“You don’t have to apologize,” said Luigi. “You’re not the one who stepped on my foot.”

“What’s your plan of action?” asked Skye. “I mean—where do you and Mario go from here?”

“I haven’t decided yet,” said Luigi. “I’m still steamed over it, and I need some time to calm down before making a decision.”

Cami nodded. “That’s exactly what Mom would tell me, Phil and Carolyn to do,” she said. “Set the situation aside, calm down and then come back to it.”

“Exactly,” said Skye.

However, Opal’s face was set and hard. When she spoke, there was quiet anger in her voice.

“I know what I saw yesterday afternoon, Luigi,” said Opal. To Skye and her brood, she said, “You know what you saw, too. We all know what we saw. And frankly, I thought I could expect better from your brother.”

“Opal, please,” sighed Skye.

“It’s fine,” said Luigi.

“I—I can’t believe he’d do something like that to you,” Opal went on. “But what gets me the most is that young children saw him acting like that—along with his Princess.”

“I see what you’re saying,” said Skye. “My kids here are a bit shaken up, but they’re okay. They’re just confused, is all.”

“Yeah,” said Phillip. “Mario’s usually a good sport. What made him do that?”

“I wish I knew,” said Luigi.

“By the way, I talked to Daisy earlier,” said Opal. “She’s _p—ed_. To tell you the truth, we’re all a bit p—ed, too.”

“Opal,” admonished Skye. “Not in front of the kids.”

“Sorry. I’m sorry. It’s just…”

“I get it,” Skye said in a softer tone. “Everyone’s worked up about it. Hopefully, Mario’s press conference will give us some answers.”

“Maybe,” said Luigi.

“All I’m thinking right now is—you braved your worst fears to save him, and _this_ is how he thanks you?” Opal hotly explained.

“I’m kinda thinking that, too,” Luigi quietly admitted, “but most of all, I just feel—betrayed. Because I love him and look up to him and have his back, and…” He paused, and there was a slight choke in his voice which he promptly shoved away. “Let’s just—let’s not talk about it anymore, okay? I need some fuel, and I need some time to think.”

His companions understood instantly.

“Well—whenever you’re ready,” said Opal. “We’re all ears.”

“I appreciate that,” said Luigi.

Opal patted Luigi’s hand before she, Skye and the kids went to find tables of their own.

Luigi had eaten half of his quesadilla when the host approached him again.

“The press conference is about to start,” he said. “Would you like to move to the bar area so you can watch it?”

“Please,” said Luigi.

The host helped him carry his food and drink to the bar area, where he sat before one of the TVs. When the bartender saw Luigi, he quickly turned up the volume.

“You know—you don’t have to watch this if you don’t want to,” said the bartender.

“This isn’t about what I want,” said Luigi.

“Frankly, I don’t know how he’s gonna explain all of this,” the bartender went on.

“Just—please, don’t change the channel,” Luigi told him. “Am I angry at him? Yes. But hearing him out will be best for both of us.”

The bartender sighed in resignation. “All right,” he said.

The host returned with a refill of Fanta Orange and a plate of loaded fries with _Puerco pibil_. “On the house,” he said.

“Thanks,” said Luigi.

As he resumed eating his quesadilla and started in on the plate of loaded fries, the TV in front of him showed the Main Hall of Peach’s Castle, where a podium lined with microphones was set up. The restaurant quieted as Mario emerged and stood at the podium, a solemn expression on his face.

Setting down a piece of the quesadilla he was eating, Luigi stared intently at his big bro’s image on the TV. He could swear that Mario was meeting his gaze as he looked into the cameras. And then the man in red took a deep breath and began to speak.

“Thank you all for coming,” he said. “I called this press conference because I know I have some explanations to give and a lot of apologies to make—especially to someone who I love even more than the Princess.” Mario cleared his throat. “I can’t bear to imagine how I must’ve looked yesterday. I offer no excuses for what I did, nor do I offer any justifications. The way I acted yesterday was wrong, and I know I hurt a lot of people. But most of all—most of all—I hurt the one person who’s always had my back, no matter what.” There were tears welling in his eyes. “I’ve never taken the time to acknowledge how blessed I am, even after what happened close to three years ago. How does the saying go? ‘You never know what you have until it’s gone’.

“Luigi, I know you’re taking some time away from me, and I’ll respect and accept that. You’re probably having lunch at one of your favorite restaurants and watching this on one of their TVs. And if you can hear me, I—I just want you to know…” A sob choked in his throat. “Bro—my Lil’ Bro—I’m so sorry! What I did to you yesterday was mean, cruel and stupid! It was _your_ moment, a moment you wholly deserved, and I—I completely and utterly wrecked it! I was egotistical and narcissistic, and I had no reason or no right—to treat you—like that…”

Mario spoke through sobs, his diminutive frame shuddering and heaving as tears rolled down his face. “You played your best, and so did I. I should’ve accepted the fact that I can’t win all the time. But for some reason, I couldn’t! I guess—I let my status as a hero and the fame get to my head! Now—now—you’re suffering because of it! Oh, God—I’m getting ill just thinking about the immature way I acted! I’ll never forget the hurt on your face as long as I live! I—I don’t deserve you, Luigi! You’re gentle and kind and smart and resourceful and strong! You put the people you love before yourself, even if it almost gets you killed! You’re always willing to help, although you barely get acknowledged in the end! And I—I’m just an insensitive, stupid, selfish and naïve little man who doesn’t appreciate you!”

Luigi’s own vision clouded over with tears, and he gripped the edges of the bar.

“I’ll never know why you saved me that night,” Mario tearfully went on. “ _I_ wouldn’t have saved me. I deserved everything that psycho did to me—it served me right for thinking I was invincible!”

Luigi pounded a fist on the bar. “That’s not true!” he cried, despite knowing Mario couldn’t hear him. “You’re flawed, but you didn’t deserve _anything_ that happened to you that night! And no matter what comes between us—you _know_ I’ll always come for you!”

“You must really hate me now, but please—hear me out,” said Mario. “I’m sorry for all the times I took you for granted, but that won’t ever happen again. I’m sorry for all the times I wasn’t there for you, but I _will_ be here for you from now on. I’m sorry for all the times I cast you aside or treated you like [bleep]! I’m sorry for all the times I forgot to say ‘thank you’ or ‘I love you’! I’m sorry for putting you through all of that trauma almost three years ago! I’m sorry, Luigi! God help me—I’m so sorry!” He broke into a fresh round of sobbing.

“M—Mario…” Luigi said shakily. “I don’t hate you, okay? I don’t hate you. I could _never_ hate you. I just hate that you did that to me…” He choked up, as well. “Oh, Mario—my Bro. Please, don’t cry…”

“I’m…” Mario managed through his sobs. “I’m sorry I stepped on your foot! I’m sorry I _laughed_ about it! Never in a million years would I dream of doing something like that! Years ago, the two of us made a vow to always support each other, and I broke it! Some brother _I_ turned out to be! Look at what happened because I couldn’t keep my jealousy under control! God—I’m a horrible—horrible—brother…”

“N—no—M—Mario, you’re—you’re a good brother,” said Luigi. “I love you so much—so much—and nothing will ever change that!”

Mario gasped for breath. “I don’t know if you can ever forgive me,” he said. “I don’t think you _should_ forgive me. But all I can say is this—I _will_ find a way to make this right. Whatever it takes—I _will_ make this up to you. I swear it.”

“I know,” Luigi whispered. “I know you will, Bro.”

“Uh—as you all know, we still have to finish the doubles portion of the tournament,” said Mario, “and Luigi and I are scheduled to play against Yoshi and DK. But after what happened—I don’t think Luigi will want to be my doubles partner anymore. And I don’t think anyone else will want to play alongside a bad sport like me. I guess—that leaves me no choice but to forfeit the match and have Yoshi and DK declared the winners by default. A bit of penance, if you will.”

Luigi’s eyes blazed as he leaped to his feet. “My bro never forfeits at anything!” he exclaimed. “And there’s no way in Hell that I’m abandoning him now! You hear me, Mario?! I will _not_ abandon you!”

“You’re—you’re still willing to be his doubles partner?” the bartender incredulously asked. “After what he did to you?”

“I don’t care what comes between us,” said Luigi. “We were opponents for a day, but we’re brothers for life. Brothers—for better or worse. I’m playing that doubles match with him, and nobody here is gonna talk me out of it!”

“What about after?” queried the bartender.

“After—we’ll just have to see,” Luigi responded truthfully. “I’m gonna continue doing what I usually do to get this completely out of my system, and then the two of us are gonna sit down and talk it over. If I hold this against him for the rest of my life, then I could put the MK’s future at risk. We’re the only two people standing between the Toads and that turtle, so we can’t let any petty arguments tear us apart. On the whole, I’m positive that Mario and I will get this sorted out. For now, though—he needs to think about what he’s done, and I need to think about what should be done next.”

The bartender pursed his lips. “Good man,” he said finally.

On the TV, they all heard a reporter speak up.

“A source has told me that the final doubles match won’t be held until a few days from now,” said the reporter. “Maybe—that’ll be time enough for you both to calm down.”

The storm began scattering from Mario’s face, and he dabbed at his eyes with a handkerchief. “Yeah—maybe,” he said, hope creeping into his voice. “We’ll just—we’ll just have to see what happens. But still—my little outburst yesterday is something I’ll have to live with for the rest of my days. I showed terrible judgement, and—if Luigi decides in his heart of hearts to give me a second chance, I promise that I’ll never hurt him like that again!” He heaved a deep sigh. “Thank you. I will not be taking any questions at this time.”

He turned and walked off the podium, followed by flashing cameras and chattering reporters.

The bartender turned the TV back down as a server placed a brownie sundae, oozing with chocolate and caramel sauces, in front of Luigi. As the man in green indulged in the dessert, he turned the press conference over and over in his mind. Mario’s genuine remorse had radiated through the TV screen, and there had been so much pain and regret in his voice as he delivered his _mea culpa_. However, there was still a lot of emotion to sift through, and while Luigi was optimistic that he’d forgive his bro, there was no way he could forget his actions yesterday.

Even so, he felt infinitesimally better than when he first walked into the restaurant. The lunch had done its job, and Luigi was ready to re-examine the incident. Maybe Mario didn’t mean to step on his foot like that. Maybe Luigi let his imagination spin out of control. Maybe—

Luigi shook his head. He wanted to think about the incident, not make excuses for his brother. After finishing his dessert, he thanked the staff for their courteous service, waved goodbye to Opal, Skye and her family and departed the restaurant.

**…**

Later that afternoon, Luigi was back in his room, wearing only a pair of royal blue leggings, socks, gloves and his signature green cap, his stereo blaring at max volume and playing his favorite Eurodance tunes, dancing energetically and seeking to dispel the myriad of emotions swirling inside of him. After the press conference, he was torn. He wanted to call Mario and reassure him that everything would be okay, but at the same time, the fact that Mario had _laughed_ while stepping on his foot really got under his skin. Perhaps the hurt would _never_ go away, just like Mario’s guilt. But give it a few days, and everything would click back into place. That much was certain.

He danced and sweated away the rest of the afternoon and most of the evening. Just as the sun dipped into the horizon, Luigi’s phone rang, and he paused his music to answer it.

“Hello?”

“Hey, sweetie!” chirped Daisy. “Just checking up on you.”

“Thanks, Daisy,” said Luigi. “I’m feeling a bit better, though. Did you watch the press conference?”

“I sure did—and I’m not buying that BS for a second!”

“Daisy…”

“You need to ditch that ungrateful p—ck, and fast!” Daisy hotly went on. “Who’s to say he won’t do something like that again? A brother like that is only gonna bring you more heartache!”

“Daisy—I could feel his remorse from where I sat. He even paid for my lunch and showed humility by offering to forfeit the doubles match. And he didn’t try to excuse what he did.”

“And just like that—everything’s okay again? What is this, a movie?” Daisy was beside herself. “I’ve got a mind to gather up some friends, get some torches and pitchforks, and…”

Ultimately, however, cooler heads prevailed.

“I can handle my bro,” said Luigi. “The two of us will play that doubles match, and then we’ll work things out. In the meantime, don’t do anything _I_ wouldn’t do, okay?”

Daisy huffed. “Okay—I’ll try.”

“Don’t try—do. I love you, Daisy.”

“I love you, too, Luigi.”

The call ended, and Luigi turned his music back up and resumed dancing.

It was well after midnight when exhaustion finally set in. Luigi broke down his body to one last song, and then he ejected the CD and put it away before turning off his stereo. After jumping into a relaxing shower, he fixed himself some eggplant parmigiana, poured himself some sweet wine and settled back on his bed to eat it.

The phone rang.

“Hello?” answered Luigi.

“Did I wake you?” asked Mario.

“No—I’m just having dinner,” replied Luigi.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah—are _you_ okay?”

“No—I—I feel horrible over what I’ve done. You probably don’t want anything to do with me anymore, which is why I chose to forfeit the doubles match.”

“Don’t—do that,” said Luigi.

“Wh—what do you mean?”

“We started the doubles round together, and we’re gonna finish it together,” said Luigi, his voice thick with resolve. “I won’t abandon you, Bro. And I don’t hate you.”

“You—you don’t?”

“No. I’ll _never_ hate you.”

“Not even after what I’ve done and said?”

“No, Mario. I’m hurt, angry and upset right now, but I could _never_ hate you.”

Mario laughed in relief. “Luigi—oh, Luigi—my lil’ bro…”

“Tomorrow, I want you call another press conference and tell them that the final doubles match is back on,” said Luigi. “We’ll face off against DK and Yoshi together, and then we’ll go from there. Does that sound like a plan?”

“Yes. Yes, it does.”

“And here’s another thing. You didn’t traumatize me that night nearly three years ago. It was _my_ choice to get you out of there. My choice alone. I may have periodic nightmares, and I may require God-knows-how many years of therapy—but it was worth it. I’ll do it again if I have to, just to hold you in my arms.”

“I still feel guilty, you know. You took one Inferno of a beating to rescue me. You were battered and burned and bleeding and _crying_ …”

“I was crying because I was happy. Happy that I’d gotten to you in time. And if anything—I should take some responsibility because I fell for that trick in the first place. I called you and told you to meet me there and…” He took several deep breaths.

“I can never stop telling you how sorry I am, Luigi,” said Mario. “What’s it gonna take for you to forgive me?”

“We’ll worry about that after the doubles match,” said Luigi. “But one thing’s for certain—I love you, Mario. More than anything and anyone in the world. And no matter what comes between us, we’re all here for you, Bro. Always…”

“Always,” Mario softly repeated. “Okeydokey. I feel a bit better now.”

“So do I.”

“Night-night.”

“Night-night.”

Luigi hung up the phone, swiped at his eyes and ate the last of his dinner. Then, he spent ninety minutes relaxing with some soft rock tunes playing on his stereo and his lights dimmed. His eyelids drooped, and he gave a soft yawned. Finally, he turned his lights off completely, turned off his music and snuggled into bed.

He slept more pleasantly that night.


	26. Faithfully

In the days leading up to the rescheduled Grand Finals for the doubles match, Mario did what he could to make it up to his lil’ bro for his misconduct on that fateful afternoon. He maintained his distance, giving Luigi the space he needed to work past the last of his raw emotions. He had all sorts of goodies, gifts and care packages delivered to his bro’s doorstep. Every morning, afternoon and evening, he called Luigi to check up on him. The man in green kept their conversations short, but he appreciated his elder brother’s gestures.

As for Luigi, he regularly visited the gym to sweat out his aggression. He went to the sports complex, armed with his tennis racket, to practice for the final doubles match, whacking tennis balls fired at him by a machine. But when the emotions got too much, he retreated to his room, locked the doors, opened the windows and curtains, turned up his music and danced. Well before the sporting events started, dancing to his music was always a deeply therapeutic experience. He stripped down to his leggings, socks, cap and gloves and danced until he was plastered all over with sweat, always feeling better after he finished. By and by, he felt that knot of hurt and anger loosening from his chest and stomach, his mind stopped racing over the incident, and he slept better each night. However, he would still wait until after the doubles match to make his next move.

But he wasn’t gonna abandon Mario during this crucial moment. Not by a long shot.

**…**

The day of the rescheduled final doubles match dawned like any other. It was relatively warm, and the sun shone brightly in the sky. It didn’t take long for the Peach Dome to fill up with spectators eager to watch the Mario Bros take on Yoshi and DK.

Meanwhile, Mario sat on a bench in the locker room, holding his tennis racket with both hands. While he was relieved that Luigi wasn’t pushing him away and was still willing to be his doubles partner, the guilt still weighed heavily on him. He’d made an impulsive decision that day, and now he was facing short-term and possibly long-term consequences. There was hope that Luigi could forgive him, but it would be hard for Mario to forgive himself.

“Okay,” Mario chided himself. “Okay. It’s time to focus. Whatever happened between us, we’re still gonna do our best out there.”

A hand rested on his shoulder.

“Yes, we are,” a voice joined in.

“Hey, Luigi.”

“Hey, Bro.”

Luigi settled down next to Mario, a gentle hand still on his shoulder. A weight hung. They were unable to make eye contact. Mario knew that some anger was still there on Luigi’s part, and Luigi was worried that if he looked at Mario, then he’d lose it and make the situation worse.

Mario spoke up. “Luigi, I…”

“Shh,” Luigi said softly, now rubbing circles into the small of Mario’s back. “I know. But regardless—I’m with you to the end of the line. We’re gonna go onto that tennis court, and we’re gonna show God and everyone why we’re the _Super_ Mario Bros. Can I count on you?”

“Absolutely,” replied Mario. “Can I count on _you_?”

“Definitely.”

Mario sighed in relief.

Luigi squeezed Mario’s shoulder one last time. “I’ll see you out there,” he said quietly.

“Yeah. See ya.”

Mario heard Luigi’s footfalls as he walked out of the locker room, and then he closed his eyes and psyched himself up.

_We can do this. We can do this. We can do this—_

**…**

“Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls,” said Toadsworth. “The long wait is over. Today, the doubles portion of the Power Tennis Tournament will come to an end, and one of two teams will take home the trophy!”

The audience cheered.

“Introducing first—the team of Yoshi and Donkey Kong!”

More applause and DK and Yoshi strode onto the court, waving to the crowd and holding their rackets aloft.

“And finally, let’s welcome—our Super Mario Brothers!”

The audience was on their feet as Mario and Luigi strode determinedly onto the court, still a united front in spite of what had happened earlier.

“This match is scheduled for five exciting sets,” said Toadsworth, “and the team who wins the most of these five sets will be crowned the 2004 Doubles Tournament Champions! Are you ready?”

The audience roared in assent.

“Then let the final doubles match begin!”

The two teams approached center court and shook hands before taking their places. DK and Yoshi would serve first.

Mario heard Luigi say his name.

He turned.

Luigi stood there with his racket, a hard, determined expression on his face. He held out his free hand.

Mario grabbed it.

And then they shook.

“Let’s-a go!” they shouted in unison, earning more cheers from the audience.

The Bros faced their opponents, and the referee gave the signal to start the match.

**…**

The final doubles match was almost as intense and as sweaty as the final singles match, maybe more.

Mario had positioned himself closest to the net, paying attention to the shots coming at him and hitting them back. But while his head was in the game, his mind was on Luigi. He knew that his lil’ bro still had a lot of pent-up feelings to let out, and why he chose to let them out like this was anyone’s guess.

Luigi stood behind Mario, near the corners. When the opposing team’s shots managed to get past Mario, he used his faster speed and higher jumps to return them or relied on his ghost vacuum to pull the ball back onto the court. The memory of Mario’s little stunt only served to give him extra energy to power him and his bro through this match.

He could’ve just stood there and let the ball soar overhead, allowing DK and Yoshi to score a point. He could’ve let Mario carry the weight of this match on his own. He could’ve denied Mario the satisfaction of a victory. He could’ve used this moment to upstage Mario, like Mario had upstaged him. But he didn’t. And for the life of him, Mario couldn’t figure out why.

While on the lookout for the ball, Mario felt Luigi’s eyes searing into his back. He heard his bro shuffling along the court to catch the shots he missed. He heard Luigi’s deep breaths and low grunts and the _cracks_ of his racket meeting the ball again and again and again. When it was their turn to serve, he heard Luigi’s slow, deliberate inhale as he tossed the ball into the air and served it. The man in green was channeling his anger into something constructive, rather than something destructive. And he was doing it to help the person who’d angered him in the first place.

_Why are you helping me, Luigi? Why—after what I’ve done?_

The first set was finished, and DK and Yoshi were in the lead. Mario readied himself, hearing the soft rustling of fabric behind him. Luigi was taking off his shirt, a sure sign that he was gonna throw everything into the remaining sets. Not just to try to win—but to support his bro.

During the next three sets, speedy and fierce shots came the Mario Bros’ way. But Luigi stayed on the outside, breathing deeply, keeping his eyes peeled for any tricky curve shots that managed to overshoot Mario. Occasionally, those emotions threatened to well up, but he expertly wrestled them back down, keeping them simmering just beneath the surface. He immersed himself in that singular state of hyperawareness, drinking in every last detail. From muscles twitching to the ball soaring towards him and Mario to every breath filling his lungs to the heat bubbling from every pore in his skin and to the sweat dripping and trickling from him. The weight of the racket in his hand. The energy zipping from the crown of his head to the soles of his feet. Mario in front of him, hunched over slightly with his own racket and the need to help him win this or at least _try_ to help him win…

Halfway through the third set, Mario took his shirt off, too, welcoming the feel of an oncoming summer breeze on his skin.

The game went on, both Bros translating the emotions raging inside of them into their swings and their serves. But Mario was soon conscious of a dull ache deep inside of him, an ache which stirred each time Luigi covered him from his outside position, rather than just letting the ball run out of bounds. He’d never understand his brother; his mind worked in mysterious ways. Luigi wound up left in the dust after a rescue mission, and he’d turn around and help Mario all the same. Instead of capitalizing on the situation three years ago, Luigi had risked it all to bring him home, emerging beaten, burned, slashed and traumatized. Mario had thrown a little hissy fit because Luigi won over him in the singles bracket, and yet here he was, helping him in the doubles bracket. He knew he was still a bit upset, but he was aiding him nonetheless.

_I wish everyone in the world had a brother like mine_ , thought Mario.

As the final set began, the two teams were tied 2-2. And at that point, the Bros started maneuvering and breathing in sync. Whenever Mario saw that he wouldn’t return a certain shot, he’d curve it toward his bro, who sent it rocketing back over the net. Or, one bro would use his Defensive Power Shot to send the ball to the other, who’d hit it with his Offensive Power Shot. By working in tandem, the duo began muscling ahead of Yoshi and DK.

“I got you,” Luigi said breathily. “I got you.”

“I got you, too,” replied Mario.

The feelings brewing within Luigi were more persistent than ever now, whispering for him to hit Mario with the ball when it was his turn to serve. Something sharp was bubbling, too, but Luigi just swallowed it all back and focused everything on his swing, his racket and the ball. Even so, Mario still felt Luigi’s eyes on him, still felt the controlled flare of emotions radiating from the younger bro. It must’ve taken a ton of willpower to play this game alongside him while trying not to think about what he did.

But in Luigi’s eyes, it didn’t matter at the moment. As he said in the restaurant several days prior, never would he ever bail on his bro.

It was now the last half of the final set, and both teams were neck-and-neck. The team who scored the next point would win. Mario turned slightly and glanced at Luigi, who was liberally glistening with sweat and breathing deeply. Luigi met his eyes and nodded to him.

_Together_.

They steeled their faces, and then Luigi served, grunting softly with the effort. The tennis ball volleyed fast and hard between the teams, mixing short-range shots with long-range shots. Luigi’s gaze continued drilling into Mario as he kept lunging forward and returning the shots which escaped his bro’s reach. He reared back on the inhale and let his swing fly on the exhale, watching his opponents’ movements, watching his bro’s movements and watching for moments where they could coordinate their shots and truly work as a team. And Mario continued feeling Luigi at his back, supporting him and even silently encouraging him. At that moment, Mario truly realized just how _selfless_ his brother was. They could have their bad days, but in the end, the man in green would always return to help when all hope seemed to be lost.

Mario swung his racket at the approaching ball and missed.

But Luigi was ready for the ball. Concentration blazed all over his face as he lunged forward and then leaped into the air, lobbing the ball with enviable strength and practically blasting it over the net.

Silence.

And then—

“Game, set and match—Mario and Luigi!”

The Bros were given a standing ovation as Yoshi and DK graciously smiled on. Mario caught his breath, swinging around to gaze at Luigi. They’d done it. They’d actually done it. They’d put aside the lingering tension between them to win the doubles bracket! Luigi slipped his hand into Mario’s and raised their arms in the air to signify their victory. And as Mario slid his gaze over the cheering Peach Dome, he felt emotions of his own beginning to swell within him.

**…**

A little later, Mario and Luigi were officially crowned the 2004 Power Tennis Doubles Champions. Together, they walked onto the stage set up for them, where Toadsworth, Peach and Daisy presented them with the trophy. Of course, Daisy shot a _look_ in Mario’s direction, but for Luigi’s sake, she held her tongue.

Mario held one end of the trophy while Luigi held the other. And as he shared this victory with his baby bro—all of the guilt came crashing down on the man in red like a tidal wave. He couldn’t take it anymore. He didn’t deserve this. He didn’t deserve a brother like Luigi. And Luigi deserved better than this.

The audience gasped as they watched Mario fall to his knees, both hands pressed over his mouth. His body trembled violently, his breaths became high-pitched and jerky and his eyes became glassy with tears.

Something was wrong!

Trophy all but forgotten, Luigi rushed to Mario’s side, gathering him in his arms.

“Bro. Bro, I’m right here. Talk to me. Please, just tell me what’s going on.”

“I—I don’t…” Mario spluttered, but the words just wouldn’t come out. Again, he pressed his hands over his mouth, stifling his sobs.

Employees and officials rushed toward the Bros, but with just a _look_ , Luigi halted them.

Turning back to his big bro, he asked, “Wanna go outside for a bit?”

Mario nodded.

“It’s okay, everyone,” Luigi said to the concerned crowd. “My bro just needs some private time. The two of us—we’ve been through a lot of stuff lately.”

The spectators murmured among themselves.

Gently, Luigi lifted Mario off the ground and carried him, bridal style, out of the venue.


	27. How It Is With Brothers

The Bros had retreated to the Peach Dome’s main entrance, and they were currently seated on a nearby bench, Mario still in Luigi’s arms. As the man in red leaned his head against Luigi’s chest, listening to his heartbeat, the contact only served to make him more distraught. His head spun, his stomach curdled, and he couldn’t comprehend why Luigi was comforting him or why he could even stand to be around him.

One of the employees hurried over with a few bottles of water and Gatorade, which Luigi accepted with a wan smile. Then, the employee retreated, leaving the Bros to some much-needed privacy.

“Hey,” Luigi said softly as Mario trembled slightly between his arms. “It’s okay, Mario. It’s okay.”

“No, it’s not,” Mario managed to say.

“Did I make you upset?” asked Luigi. “Do you—do you want me to leave?”

In response, Mario grabbed Luigi’s overall straps and pulled him closer.

“It’s—it’s not you. It’s—me…” That was all Mario could get out before his wrenching sobs broke loose. He just buried his face into his lil’ bro’s shirt and sobbed painfully.

“Just let it go—just let it go…” Luigi softly encouraged.

He slipped a hand under Mario’s cap and threaded his fingers through the soft, chocolate brown locks, whispering comforting words into his ear. All the while, Mario clung to Luigi like a life raft, releasing the guilt and remorse he’d held inside him for days.

“Luigi, I…” he hiccupped. “I don’t deserve you!”

“Hey,” said Luigi. “Don’t say that…”

“Well, it’s true! I don’t deserve to have you as a brother! All I do is take and take and take and take, and you just give and give and give and give—even after the trouble I’ve put you through! I’m a s—y brother! A really s—y brother!”

“No, you’re not,” Luigi told him. “You’ve made mistakes, but you’ve acknowledged them. I think you’re an _excellent_ brother.”

Mario choked out another sob. “I can _never_ understand you, Luigi,” he said. “While we were playing that match, you _really_ came through for me. DK and Yoshi sent out some far-reaching shots, shots that I couldn’t get to because of my limited range, and yet there you were, covering the corners of the net and returning the trickier shots. From start to finish, you had my back. Even after what I did to you. And I wanna know—why?”

“Mario—look at me. Look at me,” Luigi softly commanded.

Mario gazed into his brother’s face.

“When you stepped on my foot after I won the singles bracket and _laughed_ about it, you can bet that I was upset,” said Luigi. “I was hurt and angry, and I had to get out of there before I lashed out and did something I’d regret later. For the rest of that day and the next, I couldn’t stop thinking about it. I was wired, and I spent the next few days engaged in some sort of physical activity, sweating it out in the cardio area at the gym and dancing for hours in my room. I just wanted to know how you could do that. But I wasn’t gonna give up on you so easily. When I learned that you’d called for a press conference, I was willing to listen to what you had to say. And then—you said you were gonna forfeit the final match, and I couldn’t let you do that. I just _couldn’t_!

“In spite of what you did and in spite of how betrayed it made me feel—it didn’t matter anymore. You never give up on _anything_ , Mario, and I wasn’t about to watch you give up on this tennis match. We’re brothers, for better or worse, and we made a vow to _always_ have each other’s back, no matter what.”

“I’ve done an awful job keeping to that vow, though,” Mario said softly. “I’m just stunned you haven’t even considered bailing on me after all the times I treated you like [bleep].”

“Didn’t you hear anything I just said? I’d _never_ bail on you, and I’d _never_ abandon you. Doing so would put the entire MK at risk, don’t you get it? Mario…” Luigi took a deep breath. “You _have_ kept to that vow. Each time you cheered me up, boosted my confidence or stood up for me, you were keeping to that vow. Sure, we fight sometimes, but don’t all siblings do so? What matters is that we ultimately cool off, make up and put it behind us. And that’s what I’m doing right now—putting that incident at the final singles match behind me.”

Luigi kissed Mario’s forehead and held him even closer. “No matter how angry or upset I am with you, I’ll _always_ be there for you. I’ll _always_ come to your aid. Nobody will hurt you as long as _I’m_ around. A certain _someone_ found out the hard way almost three years ago.”

“I can’t thank you enough for what you did for me that night,” said Mario, “but I can’t help but feel responsible each time a nightmare screams you awake, you know?”

“It wasn’t your fault,” said Luigi.

“And it wasn’t _yours_ ,” added Mario. “We were both played for fools, and the only one at fault was _him_. But you beat him, Luigi. _You beat him_. You had every reason in the world to leave me to my fate, and yet you marched in there anyway and fought to your near-death for me. I thought the experience would help me reshuffle my priorities, but I guess I was wrong.

“Luigi, I—I’ve taken you for granted. I’ve left you behind during most of my adventures. I haven’t really stopped to tell you how much I love you, or to thank you for the times you’ve put your life on the line for me. But I swear to you—that ends here and now. I’m gonna treat you better and give you credit where it’s due. And whenever you’re better at something, I’ll never fly into a jealous rage again.”

“I know,” said Luigi.

“But still—how were you able to play alongside me today, even while you were thinking about my actions that afternoon? That puzzles and perplexes me more than anything else.”

“I don’t hold grudges, Bro,” Luigi said quietly. “Holding grudges is—ludicrous in my eyes. The moments when we fight or disagree are the moments when we need each other more than ever.”

Mario gave a shaky sigh. “I wasn’t thinking that afternoon, when I stepped on your foot,” he said. “Something ugly took over me, and I just—acted. I angered not only you but also a lot of people. I could feel Daisy’s eyes on me earlier, along with yours, practically chewing me up.”

“Ah—you know Daisy,” said Luigi. “She just wants to look out for me. And in time, she’ll cool off. Just—don’t push it, okay?”

“Okay.”

A beat passed between them.

Then—

“Luigi—my Bro! I—I’m so sorry!” Mario exclaimed, fresh tears welling up in his eyes. “I’m sorry I stepped on your foot like that! I’m sorry I spoiled your victory and trashed your special moment! I acted like a fool, a narcissist and a bully!”

Luigi just held his bro silently, listening.

“You’ve got to believe me, Lil’ Bro—I was trying my d—ndest to be happy for you! I could tell that your mind, your heart, your body and your soul was into that match! But—like I said—my jealousy won out! In my mind, I have a reputation to uphold—my reputation as the MK’s main symbol of hope, the one who’s always an ace at everything, including sports! But by convincing myself of that, I’ve damaged my most important relationship, and that’s my relationship with you! I close my eyes, and I keep seeing the look on your face—and it’s a look I hope I’ll never see again!”

Bitterly, Mario wept.

“I’m sorry too, Mario,” Luigi said after a while.

Shocked, Mario jerked his head up. “What in the Inferno for?” he demanded.

“Fuming over always coming in second,” said Luigi. “Barely anyone remembers my name, but I’ve realized that it doesn’t matter. All that matters is that I help you save the day and save the Princess. Each time I get you out of a tight spot during a rescue mission makes me feel _good_.”

“Oh, Luigi…”

“And—maybe we should share the blame for how the awards ceremony turned out. It was supposed to be a friendly match-up, but then I decided to play aggressively, and I guess that made _you_ decide to play aggressively. Because all I was thinking was that _for once_ , I had a shot, and I wasn’t gonna throw it away. I was just as selfish as you that afternoon, and everything turned into a big mess because of it. I’m sorry, Bro…”

“There’s nothing to apologize for, Luigi,” said Mario. “I don’t blame you for playing aggressively. I knew it was bound to happen, given the _other side_ of our relationship. It was _me_ who sent it spiraling out of control, and I’ll take full responsibility.”

“Listen to me,” said Luigi. “We have our own thing, and it works.”

Mario thought it over. “Yeah,” he said finally. “Yeah, it does, doesn’t it?”

“We’re a team,” Luigi went on, “and whether it’s a sporting event, a fighting tournament or a life-or-death battle against that turtle, we always get the job done because we work so well together. _Ti amo_ , Mario. Nothing’s gonna change that.”

“Luigi—can you ever forgive me?”

“Yes,” Luigi replied, unhesitatingly and with strong conviction. “Yes, I can. But there’s someone _you_ have to forgive, Bro—yourself.”

“It’s gonna be hard.”

“It’s always hard,” said Luigi, “but it’s certainly doable.”

Mario allowed himself to sink into his baby bro’s arms and released a deep, shuddering sigh. “I hate it when we’re on the outs,” he said.

“Me, too,” Luigi replied.

The last of Luigi’s anger began to evaporate, and the burden of guilt simultaneously eased itself from Mario’s back.

They remained on that bench in silence, entwined in each other’s arms.

When Mario had sufficiently calmed down, he spoke up yet again.

“I—I think I learned something from all of this,” he said.

Luigi smiled his sunny smile at him. “What’s that?” he asked.

Mario wiped his tears and straightened. “Hold that thought for a second,” he said.

“You’re ready to go back?”

“Yeah. I feel a lot better now,” said Mario.

Both Bros took a few deep swigs of Gatorade before striding back into the Peach Dome, hand in hand.

**…**

Relief rippled throughout the stands when the spectators saw the duo arrive.

“Sorry about that, everyone,” said Mario. “Luigi and I just had some private stuff we needed to work out. As you recall, I didn’t take his victory over me in the singles bracket well. At all.”

Murmurs.

“I just want you all to know how sorry I am for acting that way. I hurt not only my brother, but also all of you, and I set a negative example for the young children who see me as a role model. There was no excuse for me to trample my brother’s hard-earned moment, and I’ve spent the succeeding days wishing I could take it all back. I hope that with time, we can all pick ourselves up and heal from that incident.

“However—there’s no denying that we’ve learned something important from this mess. Playing tennis isn’t for competition. It’s for bringing your family and friends in to have fun. This is _never_ about trophies. After all, do you think a gold trophy is more important than your brother standing next to you?” *****

Peach was the first person to applaud. She was joined by Luigi, Toadsworth, Yoshi, DK, the Toad retainers and finally the majority of the spectators. Daisy was applauding, as well, albeit her applause was slow and reluctant, and her face was still stony. She’d agreed not to raise the roof over Mario’s actions, and nothing else.

The awards ceremony continued as usual. Mario and Luigi picked up their trophy and stood for photos with Toadsworth and the two Princesses. Then, they each took a Sharpie pen and signed their names on a television camera lens.

Once the ceremony was concluded, Mario dashed forward and jumped into Luigi’s arms, wrapping his legs around his bro’s waist as they hugged deeply and tenderly. The applause swelled as they whispered affectionate words to each other in Italian. Their brotherly bond had encountered a heavy storm, and it wasn’t the first, neither would it be the last. But by the grace of God, their bond had held firm, and the Bros had emerged from this storm stronger than ever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Credit for this moral goes to nintendoscript15.


	28. All's Well That Ends Well

In the days and weeks following the official conclusion of the 2004 Power Tennis Tournament, the relationship between the Mario Bros further recovered from the latest hurdle it had faced. They spent as much time together as they could, whether they were looking after the Toads or taking on plumbing jobs. Mario’s impulsive act was pushed further and further behind them as time went by, and it wasn’t long before Luigi retrieved his trophy from the closet, polished it and proudly displayed it in his living room, confident that his bro wouldn’t throw a salty fit whenever he saw it. In time, the Bros resolved never to speak of or think about the incident ever again, focusing their energies on what lay ahead of them, rather than what had already happened.

Mario’s public image also repaired itself in the wake of the Power Tennis Tournament—somewhat. Though the majority of his fans were forgiving souls or were willing to let what happened slide, things were touch-and-go with Daisy for a while, and some tenuousness remains today. In addition, certain groups seeking to discredit Mario or denounce him as the real villain of the story continue to use the Power Tennis incident as their main ammunition against him. However, these groups are few and far between, and Mario is still celebrated as an all-loving, optimistic heroic everyman.

As for Skye, Carolyn, Cami, Phillip and Opal, they overall enjoyed their experience and extended their stay in the MK for two more months. In August 2004, it was time for them to depart, as Opal and Skye had to return to work, and Carolyn, Cami and Phillip had to get ready to go back to school. On the day of the five’s departure, Toadsworth, Peach, Daisy and the Mario Bros met them at the train station in order to see them off.

“Well,” sighed Opal. “Looks like it’s back to reality for us.”

“You said it,” added Skye. “It was fun while it lasted, though.”

“Indeed,” Carolyn chimed in. “It was a pleasure to meet you all.”

“Likewise,” said Peach.

“Yeah,” Daisy brightly added. “We really enjoyed playing with you guys. Keep practicing, okay?”

“Okay,” said Cami.

“Now boarding on Track 27,” crackled a voice over the PA system.

“That’s us,” said Opal, standing and picking up her luggage. “I—uh—I guess this is goodbye. For now.”

“‘For now’,” repeated Luigi. “I like the sound of that. But you wanna know what sounds even better?”

“What?” asked Skye as she, too, gathered her luggage.

“‘Until we meet again’,” said Luigi.

Skye grinned like a fool. “You’re right,” she said. “That _does_ sound better.”

Peach, Daisy, Toadsworth and the Bros joined the departing visitors as they headed toward the waiting train. The conductor scanned their tickets, while the sleeping car attendant helped with their luggage.

“Thanks again for having us,” said Opal.

“It was my pleasure, of course,” said Toadsworth.

“Will we ever see you again?” asked Phillip.

“Anything is possible,” replied Toadsworth, “and the door is always open for you.”

One by one, the five denizens of the MK exchanged handshakes and hugs with the five departing visitors. And just before boarding the train, Opal allowed her gaze to sweep over Mario and Luigi.

“Take care of yourselves,” she said, “and of each other.”

“We will,” the Bros said in unison.

Opal, Skye, Carolyn, Cami and Phillip smiled at them one last time before the train car’s door closed. Five minutes later, the train sounded her horn and slowly began to chug down the track, pulling away from the depot. Toadsworth, Daisy, Peach and the Bros glimpsed the departing quintet through the windows of their respective sleeping compartments, waving goodbye. Heartily, they all returned the wave until the train disappeared from sight.

Peach then turned to the others. “Let’s go home,” she said.

“That’s a great idea,” said Mario.

Hand in hand, they exited the train depot, taking only the good memories with them and holding out hope that they’d see their new friends again.

**The End**


End file.
